


Change of Course

by Fragged



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Post-Series, Touch trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fragged/pseuds/Fragged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they get back, something has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Awesome,”_ Volker says sarcastically. “Another ship.”

It's true. The ship looms before them. It looks abandoned, battle damaged, and objectively menacing. The smooth-edged design is unlike anything they've seen before.

“I can't tell from here if there'll be life support on board,” Eli says. “If we go, we'll have to use the suits.” Young appreciates this no-nonsense attitude.

“There could be something important on board,” Rush says to him.

“Yes, because so far our track record with alien ships is so great,” Volker argues. Rush ignores him, but Young doesn't miss the way his eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

“Our luck's gotta change sometime,” Brody deadpans. Young is never sure if the man is joking or not.

He looks back at Rush. The man stays still, feigning patience, and Young gives a slight nod as he says, “We'll take a look. You want to go?”

“That would certainly expedite things,” Rush answers.

They've maintained a tentative peace between them since awakening from stasis, and Young intends to keep it going for as long as possible. He turns to Scott. “Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott agrees immediately.

As Scott and Rush leave the bridge to suit up, Young takes another look at the ship lying dead still before them.

“I have _such_ a bad feeling about this,” Volker groans.

\- 

_“Sir, this is Scott. We made it onto the ship. It's all, uh, very white. Life support is not working, and neither are any of the consoles. Rush thinks we might have a better shot from a control room.”_

Young brings his radio to his mouth. “Good, keep an eye open for usable spare parts as well. Check back in fifteen minutes.”

_“Understood. Scott out.”_

He leans back in the command chair. From the large windows in front of him, he sees the dark shape of the ship lying seemingly motionless in space. It's drifting, they've matched its speed.

Young wonders how long the ship has been here, but it's impossible to know.

 _“Colonel,”_ Rush's voice crackles through his radio. _“We've found what appears to be the control interface room.”_

“Copy that, Rush.”

_“I've managed to get some of the core systems online, but it seems like I'm being shut out of everything.”_

“Are those lights?” Greer asks from the window of the bridge.

“Rush, did you turn on any lights?” Young asks through his radio.

_“No, like I was saying, I have no control over anything but the single interface monitor right now.”_

“Rush, Scott, you've got to get out of there. _Now!_ ”

_“Sir! I've been locked in and the door controls aren't working.”_

_“Colonel, the doors just closed over here too.”_ Rush's voice is tense and deliberate.

“Oh shit,” Brody says, right before the other ship jumps.

-

“Where are they?!”

Young is upset. Understandably so, but come on, it's not like this is their fault. Hell, he _said_ they shouldn't go. _He told them._

“I don't know!” Eli yells back. He's typing furiously on his monitor, but Volker knows it's not doing any good. There's no way to track a ship in FTL. At least none they know of.

“We'll have to wait until the ship drops out and hope it's in range of our sensors,” Volker says. Greer shoots him a look, and Young turns to face him. His expression is closed off, but Volker can practically _feel_ the anger radiating off him. “But there's a good chance they can't go far! If they had full power reserves, they probably wouldn't have just drifted there, right?”

Brody gives him a doubtful look. “We have no way of knowing that. For all we know they were lying in wait.”

It's true, Volker knows it is, but sometimes he wishes Brody wasn't always such a pessimist ( _“A realist. There's a difference,”_ Brody's voice echoes in his head).

“Yeah, well, we have no choice but to wait, do we?”

Young looks back at Eli, like the kid's going to miraculously pull the solution out of a hat. Eli stops typing and slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“No, we don't.”

\- 

Well, Rush thinks. So the ship wasn't abandoned after all.

Five beings have grouped around him, and while they don't appear overly aggressive, their lime green luminescence and their undefined _edges_ make him distinctly uncomfortable. It's like they're blending into the space around them, as if they miss clear boundaries within which their physical shape resides.

It's uncanny, is what it is.

Rush holds his hands up in a – hopefully – non-threatening manner. The beings stay completely still, except for the one on the right, who moves his arm _into_ the torso of the alien standing next to him. Rush makes a face behind the bulged glass of his helmet. If this is how the creatures communicate it seems like he's in for some lovely unpleasantness. What a ridiculous invasion of personal space.

The reader in his suit tells him the atmospheric composition is safe; apparently life support came online with the rest of the ship. Moving ever so slowly, he uses his upturned hands to take off his helmet. The beings all take a step back and aim both arms at him. They don't seem to have hands, per se, their arms just end in appendages with a slightly rounded point. And Rush infers their stance indicates they can use them as weapons.

When he lowers his helmet off his head, though, they seem to relax a bit. Three of the aliens sort of lean into each other, and for a moment they look like one big blob with a dozen appendages, before separating into three individual beings again.

“I'm Doctor Nicholas Rush,” he tries. They show no sign of understanding him, but then it's hard to tell with aliens that don't have faces. “I am no threat to you. Obviously,” he huffs. He doesn't even have a bloody gun.

“I came here with another human, Lieutenant Matthew Scott. Can you take me to him, please?”

The beings give no sign of understanding.

Suddenly they all turn around. A second later the door opens and Lieutenant Scott is escorted inside by seven more of them. He too, has taken off his helmet. When he sees Rush, his face softens in relief.

“They're not hostile. I think they're as confused as we are,” Scott says to him. Rush is vaguely aware that a number of the aliens are partially merging with the new ones. Scott follows his eyes.

“Yeah, I think that's how they communicate,” Scott says, as he watches them sink appendages into each other. “I tried talking to them, but it looked like they couldn't hear me.”

It isn't until then that realization dawns on Rush. It's not just that they don't understand him. They can't even _hear_ him.

-

Young rubs a hand over his face.

It's been a long day, the longest since they came out of stasis. And there's no way he'll get any real rest tonight. Sure, he'll sleep. It's one of the most important things he's learned in all his time in the service, the ability to fall asleep anywhere within seconds. To take sleep, rather than wait for it to find him.

But he can't help but worry, and worry translates into fitful sleep, into dreams, and more importantly, nightmares. Matt and Rush are on that ship, God knows where. There's no way of knowing if they're even still alive. Matt is like a son to him, and Rush...well, he can't imagine Destiny without him. But he can't let that influence his actions. If there's one thing he has learned aboard this ship it's that everyone looks to him to make the hard decisions, and things go very wrong when he doesn't.

Privately, he'll keep hoping the alien ship drops out somewhere close by, so they can take Scott and Rush back by force, if necessary. But if it doesn't... If the ship travels beyond the range of their sensors, they'll have to keep moving. After discussing it with the remaining science team, he's decided to wait for another sixteen hours. If the ship hasn't shown up on their scans by then, he'll have to order Destiny back into FTL.

He takes off his boots and lies back on his bed.

All he can do now is wait.

-

“Uh, what are they doing?” Scott asks with some alarm.

The aliens have gathered around him, six of them, and they've all raised their right arms while using their left to connect to each other.

“Stay perfectly still, Lieutenant,” Rush says quietly. “I don't think they want to hurt us.”

That's all great and stuff, but they're lowering their arms to point right at him, and now they're closing in.

“I don't _like_ this,” Scott grinds out through clenched teeth, but he manages to stand still as the beings all touch him at the same time. Their arms stop at his skin, but then push on, and it's the weirdest feeling. It's as if he's a cotton pad, or a sponge, and their extremities are like moisture wanting to be absorbed by him. He can feel what they are feeling, they all share it, and it's tentative and a little bit scared, but also curious and somewhat hopeful. Slowly he starts seeing images. Flashes of scenes that make little sense to him, but that are made deeply meaningful by the alien emotions that accompany them.

“Lieutenant?” Rush's voice sounds distant, like it's coming through a telephone with bad reception.

“It doesn't hurt,” Scott mumbles quietly. The images and feelings are coming in faster now, and he can't keep up. He feels his eyes roll backward in his head and for a split second he wonders if it's his own eyes that he's feeling right now. Then everything goes black.

-

Rush doesn't panic. He wants to, but he knows he can't afford it. Scott has collapsed, and the beings are still touching him. Their acid green glow has been changing color from the moment they made contact with Scott, and the brightly shining pale yellow is somehow even more awful than the green was. It reflects off the stark white of their surroundings eerily.

He wants to go over to Scott, to check his pulse, to _do something_ , but he has no idea what will happen if he touches Scott right now. And he has no idea how the aliens guarding him will react.

All of a sudden, the beings retract their arms as one. They slowly go back to their original color, and one of them moves over to Rush and leans completely into one of the ones guarding him. Rush goes over to Scott, touches his wrist and feels a strong pulse. He's just unconscious, not hurt, it appears. From behind his eyelids, a low green light seems to shine. Shit. That can't be good.

Their movements are fluid and soundless, and before he has time to register what is happening, the beings have surrounded him. They position themselves the way they did with Scott, and Rush feels panic crawl up his throat. He can't move anywhere without touching them.

When they reach for him, everything goes still, and then everything seems to slam into him all at once. Who they are, what they want, what they're scared of, he can see it all. He can _feel_ it all. He loses track in the rush of incoming data, and then he loses his consciousness as well.


	2. Chapter 2

“We can wait a bit more.” Young hears the plea in Eli's voice.

He closes his eyes and inhales sharply through his nose. “No,” he says, and his voice is steady. “It's been a full day, and they haven't dropped out of FTL yet. So we know they are out of range.”

“But-” 

“Eli, I wish things were different, too,” Young interrupts him. And maybe it's the weariness in his voice or the look on his face, but Eli backs down. 

Destiny creaks and for a second everything goes blurry as Eli puts the ship back into FTL. 

“There's a star system with three stargated planets about four days from here,” Eli says quietly. 

Young nods at him before exiting the bridge. 

He needs a goddamn drink. 

\- 

“Rush?” Scott's voice is coming from far, far away. “ _Rush_!” 

He mumbles something, he's not even sure what, and slowly blinks open his eyes. 

“Ah, there you are,” Scott says, and the warmth in his voice throws Rush a bit. "Here, have some water." Scott offers him one of the canteens. 

Rush accepts it and takes a few sips. He moves to sit up and sees they're in a small room, comparable to the quarters they have on Destiny in size, if not in design. The whole room is the same stark, shiny white as the rest of the ship. It looks like everything is made of the same material. A polymer, perhaps, or some sort of ceramic. It doesn't really matter, except for how its brightness makes him squint.

“What happened?” Rush says, and his accent is so thick he doubts Scott can understand him. He feels like he's been hit in the head with a hammer, except it isn't _pain_ he's feeling exactly. 

“The last thing I remember all those aliens touched me and I saw...I don't even know.” 

“Everything,” Rush mutters quietly. 

Scott nods, and Rush isn't sure if the boy is just humoring him. He remembers being overwhelmed by what they showed him, image upon image until they crowded out his consciousness entirely, but he can't remember any specifics. None of the images stuck.

They sit in silence for a bit, until Scott suddenly turns toward the door. 

A second later, Rush can feel it, too. And isn't _that_ new. 

The door opens, and three of the beings step through. He can see they all have different colors, shades of green he wasn't able to differentiate before. Their intent radiates off them, it's friendly and non-threatening and...polite? They seem more comfortable with Scott; Rush feels tiny licks of ambiguousness toward himself, and he finds it darkly amusing that they are scared of the unarmed scientist rather than the tall, trained soldier. 

“Hey,” Scott says to them, and Rush almost rolls his eyes at the boy because _obviously_ that doesn't work. But then Scott reaches his hand forward, inviting them to make contact. 

“Lieutenant,” he says in a warning tone. 

“It's fine. This is how they talk, right?” 

The being in the middle reaches out its own arm to sink into Scott's, and where they touch Scott's arm lights up a bright yellow green. It seems to shine from under his skin, traveling all the way from his wrist to the underside of his chin. Rush isn't sure he's imagining the eerie green light peeking weakly from under Scott's eyelashes.

The contact lasts for about three minutes, before the being detaches itself and reaches into its two companions. Probably to discuss what it just learned from Scott. 

“They're not from here, not from this galaxy,” Scott tells him. “They call themselves Lii. Their people were hunted down by some other aliens, they call them something like Prgnim...I can't really pronounce it, it's like radio static. But they were sent here, to this galaxy. Just waiting for their superiors to return to them with orders. They thought we were enemies, that's why they fled with us on board.” Scott looks kind of discomfited. “They apologized in a really strange way.” 

Rush nods slowly. His head is swimming with questions. “Did you tell them about us? About Destiny? We have to get back.” 

“Yeah, but they have no way of knowing where the Destiny is, apparently they went into FTL.” 

“I know the course she'll take, at least for the foreseeable future,” Rush says quickly, and Scott nods. 

“They also want our help with something.” 

“Yes, fine, what?” Rush's voice comes out more irritated than he'd intended. 

“Before they went into stasis, they were working on a communications device that could transmit and receive across galaxies. They said they almost figured it out, but they're stuck on something. They want us to help them finish the device, and then to take it with us into the next galaxy, to where their kind is. So they can...phone home, I guess.” 

Rush ignores the halfhearted joke. “I'll need to see their work before I can make any promises,” he says. He focuses his attention on the beings again. They've been observing him and Scott for a while now. Invasive as their way of communicating may be, it sure seems a lot faster than good old fashioned talking. 

“Alright, come on then,” Rush says, and impatiently holds out his hand. "What are you lot just standing there for?" The Lii seem a bit uncomfortable, but before long the one on the right steps forward to reach into him. 

It's unlike anything he's ever experienced, and he's quite impressed that Scott managed to separate the relevant information from all the random flashes of thought and emotion as well as he had. 

They have no individual names, but they have families. Siblings, children, parents, and something they call 'brenings' which Rush has no idea how to translate. 

The communication device they have developed is simple, but not unsophisticated. As soon as he understands their problem, he knows he can use what he's learned from the communication stones to fix the issues they have with long-distance connectivity. 

They're scared of the Prgnim. The very concept of them strikes fear into their hearts. They're scared they will be found by them. They're even more scared everything and everyone that they know has already been destroyed by them. 

They don't like Rush because he lies, and lying is something the Lii don't understand. They can't, with the way they communicate, opening their entire self up with every inquiry, every answer. But they also know he is smart, that he can help them, so they will ask him for assistance, and they will trust Scott that the device will be placed where it needs to be placed. 

They understand he and Scott want to go back to Destiny, and they will deliver them exactly where Rush knows Destiny will drop out next. Or where they drop out after that, which now the Lii knows too, because it's seen every part of the entire course of Destiny he's kept in his head. Rush doesn't like that one bit, and he knows the Lii knows that too. 

They have something akin to Destiny's stasis pods, and by their calculations they've spent nearly seventeen years in them. They think it's too soon to go back, but they feel helpless and useless sitting out here in a neighboring galaxy. 

They can ingest radiation from stars to sustain themselves, and Rush thinks that's quite interesting, and then he can feel the Lii sort of _preening_ , which completely throws him. 

He severs the connection. 

“That was...different,” he says more to himself than Scott. 

Scott snorts. “Tell me about it.” 

-

Dinner is a bleak affair. Young doesn't feel like talking, and when Camile comes up to him it takes every bit of willpower he has not to bite her head off. 

Chloe and Eli sit huddled at a table. Their eyes are red, and Eli rubs her shoulder and whispers something at her while she's obviously trying to keep in more tears. Neither of them has touched their meal. 

Greer sits silently at a table with Dunning and Baras, ignoring their muffled conversation and staring off into space. 

TJ is having her meal with Varro. She keeps shooting him covert glances, and if he was in a better mood he might appreciate the sentiment. But right now all he can think about is that they have lost two of the most important people on board in one fell swoop. 

“Colonel? Did you hear a word I just said?” Camile's voice pulls his focus back to her. He gives her a blank look, and she shakes her head and briefly touches his arm. “I'm going to use the stones to make my report to the IOA. You should probably talk to General O'Neill as well.” 

Young nods and stands up from his seat. “I'll do that, Camile. Have a good night.” 

He doesn't hear her reply. He's too preoccupied contemplating whether or not to stop by Brody's still. 

\- 

It takes Rush two hours to solve the problem the Lii had been trying to crack for years before giving up and going into stasis, and he feels completely entitled to his vicious sense of superiority. The alien that had escorted him to the device radiates a combination of awkward sheepishness and reluctant awe, and Rush is vaguely reminded of Doctor Volker. 

The being steps up to him and offers its arm, and Rush hesitates less than a second to move his hand into the appendage. 

He receives a heartfelt 'thank you', and a quick scene of why they'd been unable to fix the problem. It shares whole schematics of their technology, and just like the ship itself, the design is unlike anything he's ever seen before. Their technology is nowhere near Ancient levels, but it's much more advanced than Earth technology. In places it's downright clever. There might even be something in there he could use to strengthen Destiny's shields...it would take some reformulating to make the solution compatible with Ancient technology, but it could really make a difference. And their FTL drives are much faster than Destiny's, if he could take their system layout as an example he might be able to reroute the power to Destiny's FTL drives in a similar fashion to increase their own maximum speed. He'd have to find a way to ensure the drives are robust enough to handle the increased power flow, but if he can figure out how to copy the Lii design and make the transistors heat resistant...it could work. The Lii's contentment at being able to help floods through his mind. 

The Lii have seen Ancient technology before, there are stargates all over both this and their own galaxy, but it seems very interested in the design of Destiny. Rush feels the sense of understanding and curiosity flowing through him as it looks deeper into the FTL drives, the weapon systems, the communication stones. Abruptly he pulls his hand out of the Lii. 

“That was not meant as permission to plunder the entirety of my knowledge on Ancient technology,” he says angrily. The Lii doesn't react to his words, but it sends him a wave of confusion. When it reaches its arm out again, Rush pulls away. “Don't!” 

More confusion, and something akin to hurt wash over him, but he's having none of it. 

The device is fixed. He points at it and then back to the door. Somewhat dejectedly, the Lii takes him back to where Scott and the other Lii are. 

Scott, the fucking idiot, is involved in what can only be described as a fully clothed orgy. Lii are sticking into him from all sides, and as Rush watches them, Scott's expression changes from intrigued, to serious, to a hearty laugh. 

When Rush pointedly clears his throat, Scott opens his eyes, and the Lii all extract themselves from him. 

“Oh, hey!” he says. “Did you fix it?” 

“Of course I fixed it. What the hell are you doing?” Rush demands. 

Scott gives him a nonplussed look. “I was just talking with them. They're nice.” 

“Yes, I'm sure they're real bloody nice until they've taken you for everything that you know,” he sneers. 

“They need us to bring their device to their galaxy.” 

“Or so they've told us.” 

Scott looks at him with a soft approximation of pity, before he says, “You really don't trust anyone.” Rush gives him a scathing look, but either Scott doesn't notice, or he doesn't care. “You wouldn't feel that way if you got to know them, they got dealt a very rough hand.” 

“I'm sure,” Rush says with all the condescension he can muster. “However, seeing as we've held up our end of the bargain, I think it's time for them to deliver on theirs.” 

Scott nods, and reaches his hand into the Lii standing closest to him. 

“We're already underway to the Destiny's nearest stopping point. We'll be there in thirty minutes.” 

-

Once they've put the space suits on again, the aliens hand Scott his gun and the communications device. The device is somewhat similar to a kino, it has the same levitating capability. It also has a built-in sensor screen that apparently can translate touch, to allow for two-way communication between Lii. It looks clunkier, square with rounded edges, but simultaneously more modern, because its outer shell is made from the same smooth white material as everything else on the ship.

Scott reaches into the Lii's arms with a serious expression on his face. No doubt reassuring the alien he will take care to place the device where it's supposed to go. Rush lets him. There's no hurry to get to the planet; although it seems to be the most habitable out of the three, it will likely be cold. More importantly, they won't have anything to do for _days_ , as they wait for Destiny to catch up to them. 

Scott takes a few more minutes to say goodbye, and once again Rush is struck by how disturbing it looks when multiple aliens are poking into him from all sides. With a tinge of sadness to his voice, Scott turns to him and says, “Okay, we can go now.” 

Two of the Lii use their shuttle to fly them down to the planet, landing a few hundred meters from the stargate. Rush is out of the shuttle as soon as they hit the ground, while Scott takes his time to do another round of farewells. 

His suit gives Rush a more accurate reading of the environment. Oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are well within range, and there are no toxins in the air. The temperature is much higher than he'd anticipated, which is a relief. There's loads of plant life around them, and a good chance of animals as well. Although the suit isn't picking up any signs of warmblooded life in the vicinity at the moment, that doesn't mean much. 

He removes his helmet and takes in a deep breath of clean, outside air. The suit is low on energy, so he decides to take it off. When he's done, Scott steps out of the shuttle with a last wave to the Lii inside, and they watch it take off together. 

“You should get out of your suit as well,” Rush says, before wandering off to find a good place to spend the night. 

\- 

He finds a cave. Well, technically he finds two caves, but the first one is inhabited by a swarm of bee-like creatures, and that seems like an unnecessarily bad idea. 

Scott, in the mean time, has gathered some fruits and berries. He's even caught a medium sized fish in a nearby river, and Rush thinks there are definitely worse people he could've been stranded on a planet with. 

Scott collects wood for a fire, while Rush utilizes the space suit to make the most rudimentary judgments on the edibility of the fruit and fish. The scientists aboard Destiny would not approve, but it's not as if he has one of their testing kits on hand. Only one item triggers the suit, an overly bright fuchsia colored berry the size of a large grape, and Rush thinks that at least now he knows the suit measures _something_ , so he counts it as a win. He puts those berries to the side, just as Scott makes his way back to him, his arms stacked with dry wood. 

“I think we'll survive here,” he grins as he drops the firewood at his feet, and Rush can't stop a small smile from forming on his lips. Apparently he is not completely immune to the boy's youthful enthusiasm.

“The brightly colored fruit on the trees indicates there are probably animals around, as well,” he says. 

Scott nods happily. “Meat!” 

Rush chuckles. “Yes, perhaps. Or huge omnivores that will hunt us. Good fun either way.” 

Scott laughs. 

Yes, maybe this won't be so bad, Rush thinks. 

“The sun is about to start setting. We should move everything to the cave you found, make camp there. I'm getting really freaking hungry.” 

-

“Look, we don't know what happened. They could be on their way back to us right now in a shuttle they stole,” Eli says to her. “Or come on, how Rush would it be to just be waiting there, on a stargate planet, all irritated and huffy because 'it took us forever to get there and he had to _camp_ , for God's sake!'” 

Chloe knows he's trying to comfort her, and part of her really wants to believe him, but it just seems more and more unlikely that she'll ever see Matt or Rush again. 

“Seriously, Chloe, you can't give up yet. How many times did it seem like we lost people, or we were lost _ourselves_? And it always ends up okay.” 

Not always, she thinks, as she remembers all the times she saw Eli and Riley messing around with the kinos. Not for everyone. 

She gives him a tired smile, because she doesn't want to think these things, and she certainly doesn't want to say them. 

“You're right, I know. They're probably fine.” 

“Hell yes they're probably fine!” Eli says too enthusiastically. “They're _definitely_ fine! I bet by now Matt is either way more informed about some overly specific part of Destiny's systems, or he's saying five hundred Hail Mary's for fantasizing about smothering Rush in his sleep.” It sounds forced, but she bumps her shoulder into his with a small chuckle anyway. 

“They'll find their way back,” she says softly. She almost believes it. 

-

“Oh man,” Scott moans around a mouthful. “This is delicious. And usually I don't even like fish!” 

“Part of that might have something to do with not eating for nearly two days.” Rush takes another bite of his own. Scott is right, though. It is good. 

Scott grins and stuffs the last bits of fish in his mouth. He takes his knife to cut one of the light blue apricot fruits in half, and offers one of the halves to Rush. 

Rush takes it, and sniffs it experimentally. It smells very faintly of melon, and he takes a bite. It's quite edible. “Why do I get the feeling that's not regulation equipment for deserted spaceship explorations?” he asks, as he motions his head toward the knife in Scott's hand. The light from the fire reflects off it softly. 

“Hey, it's come in pretty handy out here,” Scott says. Then, slowly, his expression sobers, and he looks at the knife. “It was a gift from someone. I always carry it with me.” 

Rush nods and looks away. Now that the sun has set, the beige walls of the cave have taken on a deep orange hue in the light of their campfire. The flickering flames create moving shadows in the cracks in the stone, and Rush shivers slightly before moving closer to the fire. The temperature had really dropped after the sun dipped below the horizon. 

“It was my father's, he was a marine,” Scott says, and Rush wishes he could tell him his silence was meant to be just that, a silence. Not an encouragement to continue this personal story, this undoubted tragedy that he doesn't really want to know about, because it will interfere with who he tries to be and how he sees the world. But he doesn't say that, because apparently he's not that much of a heartless bastard. 

“Both my parents died when I was real young, so Father McCarthy raised me. He gave me this knife when I was fifteen. He died a year later.” 

Rush is not sure how to respond. People generally don't tell him things like this, and he prefers it that way. 

Suddenly Scott rubs a hand over his face, and it reminds Rush sharply of Colonel Young. 

“Sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down like that,” Scott says, discomfort clear in his voice. 

Rush looks down at the piece of fruit in his hand. Rush knows loss. Knows how it can gnaw you up from the inside until you feel like there's nothing left but a hollow shell of your former self. If you let it. And he knows that Scott hasn't let that happen. “It's alright,” he shrugs. 

They sit in silence on opposite sides of the fire. 

“I hope they don't all think we're dead,” Scott says when the silence has gone past amicable and into awkward. 

“This isn't the first time either of us got lost,” Rush answers, and he remembers being left on that dusty planet. How different things had been this time. “They should know by now, they can't get rid of us that easily.” 

Scott finishes his apricot fruit, and throws the pit into the darkness outside the cave. “Yeah,” he answers quietly, before stifling a yawn. It's obvious he's exhausted. 

“I'll take first watch,” Rush offers, managing to keep any self-consciousness from seeping into his voice. 

Scott's expression of surprised gratefulness almost makes it worth it. 

-

Rush says it will be at least two more nights before Destiny reaches them, and Scott thinks that they should try to collect as many of the edible fruits and vegetables they can find, for when the ship gets there. 

Rush agrees more easily than he'd expected, and they spend the entire day foraging. 

Around an hour before sundown, Scott picks up the sharp, pointy stick he'd used to spear a fish yesterday, and makes his way back to the water. He's a bit surprised when he realizes Rush has followed him, but the man just parks himself on a nearby rock and watches him as he catches a fish within three tries and fifteen minutes. 

He's a bit more surprised when Rush takes off his shoes and socks, rolls up the legs of his pants, and wades into the water with his own stick. And then he's just plain confused when Rush spears a fish after standing stock still for ten minutes, and then just smirks at him as the fish flaps its final death throes on his spear. 

“Yeah, okay, that was impressive,” he admits. 

“Let's go back to the cave. I'd rather clean these while we still have some natural light,” Rush says. 

“Sure, I also want to pick up a few extra pieces of firewood.” 

-

“How did it go, sir?” Greer asks after he disconnects the communication stone. 

Colonel Young sighs audibly, and puts the stone back in its case. “About as well as you'd expect. O'Neill says not to give up hope, but to appoint a new chief scientist and second-in-command in Rush and Scott's absence.”

Greer nods.

“How was everything on your end? Telford give you any trouble?” the Colonel asks. He looks tired.

“The usual, sir,” Greer answers, and he is pleased when Young lets out a short huff of amusement. 

“Well, good to know some things don't change, at least,” Young says as he makes for the door. “I'm going to speak with the science team now. I'll radio you when I'm done.”

“Yes, sir.”

Greer watches Young exit the room, before he turns back to the communications device. Camile's stone is still connected, but she shouldn't be too long now. 

-

After the meal, he and Scott sit around the fire again. Rush feels a bit odd, but he can't put his finger on what it is, exactly. The food was good. Even better than yesterday, if only because they had more fish tonight. It's chilly, but not nearly as cold as he'd feared when he was on the alien ship. Scott's company is quite bearable; the boy is generally quiet and respectful, and there are times he completely forgets Scott is there at all. Sure, he's starting to miss Destiny, with the continuous rumbling of her FTL drives, and her extended database, and her incredibly complex problems. But he's only been away from her for a few days. That's not what's making him feel this way. 

No, something is itching. He feels a bit _wrong_ , like he's forgotten something important, or maybe like he's missing something big and it's staring him right in the face but he _just can't see it_. It's making him tense. 

Something growls, out in the dark, past where Scott is sitting in the mouth of the cave. 

“Did you hear that?” Scott asks, face peering into the darkness. 

“That'll be our omnivore,” Rush says tersely. 

“Eh, maybe we'll have steak for dinner tomorrow.” Scott grins, ever the optimist. 

“You're not going out there to hunt the bloody thing, are you?” 

“Not while it's this dark out, no. Maybe tomorrow, if it's still around by then. I'll take first watch tonight.” 

Rush shrugs and moves to lie down. With his back to the fire, he sees wild shadows dancing on the cave wall in front of him. He drifts away contemplating what he remembers learning about Plato during his freshman year at Oxford. 

-

They never do find that growling animal. 

The next two days pass uneventfully. They collect fruit and vegetables, catch fish for dinner, and spend the rest of the time exploring the vicinity of the gate. 

Rush finds a naturally formed cove in the river, where a number of rocks have blocked out the strong current. It's crawling with critters the size of his little finger, seemingly a mixture between shrimp and craw fish. 

Scott spends hours looking for warmblooded animals, apparently the idea of steak has nestled itself deep in his brain, but none of his efforts are successful. 

As the days progress, Rush feels that itch of wrongness grow stronger and stronger, until he's so tense he snaps at Scott at the smallest provocation. He suspects Scott is experiencing something similar, because he's grown almost completely quiet. He constantly wears a deep frown, one Rush feels mirrored on his own face. 

Finally, about an hour from sunset, Scott suddenly asks, “Did you hear that?” 

Rush turns around from where he's standing in the water, just in time to see Sergeant Greer enter the clearing. 

“Finally!” Scott says with a laugh, as he bounds up to Greer through ankle-deep water. “What took you so long?!” 

“Man, you have no idea how happy I am to see your ugly mug,” Greer laughs, and he sounds relieved. He gives Scott a one-armed hug, and even spares Rush a jaunty wave. Scott leans into the hug with a satisfied smile. When he pulls back, a weight seems to have lifted from his shoulders. Greer reaches for his radio.

“Sir,” he says into it. “Guess who I just found?” 

-

When he and Scott pass through the gate, Rush is flooded with the deep contentedness of coming home. He's inside Destiny again. His shoes clank on her sturdy metal floors, her engines hum at him, and that scent of artificially pure air and _humans_ instantly calms him down. The nervous anxiety still flutters in the back of his mind, but the gladness of being back overrules it for the moment. 

Young is waiting for them in front of the gate, a rare smile broad on his face. He pulls Scott into a hug as he rumbles, “Welcome back, son,” and Rush sees Scott's face go happy and relaxed almost immediately. 

“Thank you, sir.” Scott's voice is muffled into Young's shoulder. 

“Man, it's good to have you back,” Young says as he lets go of Scott. “Both of you,” he directs at Rush as he grabs him by the shoulders. Rush feels himself tense up at the physical contact, but as Young claps his shoulder amicably, once, twice, something unfurls just a little, and all that tension that has been building up in him for days finally punches out of him in an unexpected wave of pure release. 

He feels content, joyously happy even, and a little bit nervous, but most of all relieved. So incredibly relieved. And then Young lets go of his shoulders and steps back, and suddenly Rush only feels that contented feeling of homecoming and release, before the confusion sets in. 

What the hell was that? Were those _Young's_ emotions he experienced just now?

The Colonel is looking at him expectantly, and Rush realizes he hasn't said anything at all since stepping through the gate. He clears his throat, mostly to buy time. 

Eventually, he says, “Yes, very good.” He has no idea if it's an appropriate response, but Young grins at him like he's just told the world's best joke, so he figures it's fine. Young turns back to Scott, who is hugging Chloe and high-fiving Eli at the same time. Eli's eyes flick over to him and he gives Rush a wide smile and a silently mouthed 'welcome back'. 

Rush sees it, observes it all, but his mind is stuck on what just happened. 

“Come on, we're blocking the gate,” Young says, as he herds them to the side. He looks over his shoulder at Rush and gives him an amused look. “I'm sure you can't wait to make all sorts of science.” 

Rush gives a nod and a half shrug in agreement, and stalks out of the gateroom. He needs to figure this out right the fuck now.

If what he's suspecting is true, he's in deep trouble. 

-

Rush sighs and sits back in his chair. At least the twitchy nerves that bugged him while they were on the planet haven't come back. Yet. If his suspicions are correct, they will be back soon enough. He rubs his shoulder absentmindedly. 

It's those bloody aliens, he's sure of it. That circle stance they did to him and Scott, that must've been the thing that changed them. He can still see the green glow flaring softly from under Scott's eyelashes. Fuck, how did he not see this coming? Being able to differentiate their specific colors, understanding their ways of communicating, _of course_ those aliens did something to change them! 

His first dilemma now is whether or not to talk to Scott. Talking to Scott could confirm his hypothesis that they have both been changed. But. There's a chance the boy hasn't realized anything is going on. He's hardly the sharpest tool in the proverbial shed. If that is the case, Rush thinks, he can keep this to himself for a bit longer while he figures out what exactly is going on. 

It's not that he plans to keep this a secret forever. It just seems more prudent to assess the situation before he tells everyone ( _Colonel Young_ ), and hysteria ensues. A few days, that's all he asks for. And all of this is assuming Lieutenant Scott hasn't noticed his own changes, which he'll have to find out first. 

Yes. Alright. He can handle this. 

-

They're in the mess hall, and thanks to their gathered fruits and vegetables, dinner is quite a feast. Inman has declared the shrimp things fit for consumption, and Becker has made something akin to stir-fry. It's quite tasty, Scott thinks.

Eli's been talking a mile a minute ever since he came back. Scott nods and laughs, and lets the words flow over him while Chloe leans into him and adds bits and phrases of her own here and there. She's been holding onto his arm the entire afternoon, as if she's afraid to let him go again. Even though he's known he'd be back on the ship for days now, he's happy and relieved to be back here, with his friends. 

Suddenly Eli's diatribe cuts short, as Rush casually slides into the seat opposite Chloe. 

“Hey,” Eli says. “Where were you all afternoon?” 

Rush glances at him, and takes a bite of his stir-fry. “Re-acclimatizing,” he says, then gestures at his dinner with his spoon. “This is better than I remember.” 

“Yeah, Becker was really happy with the stores of food you two made on that planet,” Chloe smiles. 

Rush nods. “Well, I for one, am happy to be back on board,” he looks directly at Scott. “Everything back to normal.”

Scott grins. “Yeah, as normal as things ever get on this ship.” 

Rush looks at him for another beat, nods, and then goes back to his dinner with the intensity of a starving man. 

Eli gives them both a curious stare. “So,” he says, and he stretches the word out until it has at least three syllables. “You two seem to have bonded.” 

Scott has no idea what to say to that. He doubts he'll ever be friends with Rush, but the past few days haven't been nearly as terrible as he might've imagined. 

“Not particularly,” Rush says as he gets up from the table with his empty bowl. “Have a good night.” 

“Colonel Young wants us to report tomorrow morning,” Scott calls after him. “0800.” 

Rush raises his hand in a wave and a signal of acquiescence as he walks out of the mess hall. Scott turns back to Eli and Chloe, who have matching grins on their faces. 

“Yeah, you are totally friends with Rush now,” Eli says. 

Chloe laughs.

Scott chuckles. He's really happy to be back. 

-

Young frowns at the spot where Scott and Rush disappeared around the corner. They just left their account of what happened on the alien ship, and something doesn't sit right with him. It's not that he doesn't believe them – even if just because he wholeheartedly trusts Scott not to lie to him. But something was off. Something about Rush. 

He can always tell when Rush lies, and it always ends badly. For how smart that man is, he is one shitty liar. 

He sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. He thought they were doing better. After the last galaxy, the drones, stasis...it had seemed like he and Rush had come to an understanding, an almost comfortable working relationship. 

Young isn't too big to admit to himself that those little moments when Rush confides in him, even if it's about something as unimportant as Volker's inability to correctly conjugate Ancient verbs, lighten his days on Destiny. Maybe it makes him feel better knowing that he can create something of a positive connection with the person he hurt worst in his entire life. Maybe he's lonely. Or maybe it is just that Rush, when he isn't being an ornery, lying bastard, sometimes seems like someone whose company he might have enjoyed if they'd met under different circumstances. 

He sighs again. He'll keep the peace for now. Hounding Rush for the truth never quite works out the way he wants. 

But he'll keep a close eye on the man. 

And doesn't that just feel like the good old times.


	3. Chapter 3

He can't stand this. It's been five days since they came back from the planet, and he's practically vibrating out of his skin. He's sweaty, his heartbeat thrums too fast, and he can't keep his concentration on anything for more than half a minute. 

And of course _Young_ is the one to call him on it.

Rush is standing at a console in the control interface room when the Colonel walks into the room. 

“Oh, hey,” Brody greets him. He is working on his own console a few meters away. “Everything okay?” 

“Yes, no immediate crises that need your attention,” Young says placidly, and nods for Brody to get back to work. “Rush, a word?” 

Rush feels jittery and fevered and irritated, but he follows Young out into the empty hallway. “What is it?” He doesn't quite manage to keep the impatience out of his voice. 

Young gives him a long look, and Rush feels his insides squirm and his heartbeat speed up. 

“Are you feeling okay? Eli says you're not.” Young frowns and leans closer to inspect his face. “You look like you're running a fever.” 

Rush is trembling, and he doesn't know why but he has to fight himself not to inch closer to where Young is crowding into his space. There's a contentious set to Young's mouth as he lifts his hand to Rush's forehead, and it's as if everything happens in slow-motion. Rush can't even think to move away in time. 

At the contact, he is overwhelmed. All the tension, the anxiety, the nervousness, it's been building up inside him to the point of near bursting. At the touch from Young, it all releases in a whoosh of sensation through his entire body. Rush barely holds back the moan that threatens to spill from his lips, and his eyes slip shut as he presses deeper into the hand on his forehead. Underneath it, underneath that feeling of near-climactic release, he feels annoyed, suspicious, worried, and distantly horrified. He doesn't know which of those emotions are his own until Young pulls back and he is left with a mixture of relief and appalled embarrassment. 

“Rush?” 

Rush jerks his eyes open, and he angles his flushed face to the side. “I'm..." He swallows thickly. "I think I have a fever.” To his own horror, he realizes his cock is hot and engorged in his jeans, halfway to erect. And wow, isn't _that_ just fucking outstanding. 

“Yeah, I think a trip to the infirmary might be a good plan,” Young says, and his voice doesn't brook argument. 

Rush doesn't want to, not now the jittery itchiness has receded and he feels he can finally _think_ again, but he lets Young walk him to the infirmary. The one tiny pinprick of fortune in this entire debacle is that at least his prick gets the message to calm the fuck down before they reach it. 

Lieutenant Johansen's hands on him infuse him with a calm and professional confidence. There's a wavering undercurrent of tension and longing in there, as well, and it takes him several minutes to realize it's because Colonel Young is in the room with them. 

“You don't have a fever, and everything seems normal,” she says as she moves back from him. “Just, you know, stay hydrated and get a good night's sleep.” She sounds as if she knows he probably won't do either of those things. 

Young looks unconvinced, but Rush nods and gets up. “I feel better.” He says it to no one in particular, but it's meant for the Colonel. “I'm going back to work now.” 

It takes him every last bit of willpower not to run all the way back to his quarters. 

-

Young looks up from his desk at the knock on his door frame. The door is open, Young's unspoken way of indicating office hours, and Rush leans against it casually. At least, he hopes it looks casual. He's been dreading this conversation, but there is no benefit to putting it off any longer. 

“We need to talk,” Rush says, and presses the door mechanism before walking up to the desk. 

Young takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Rush pulls in a deep breath and decides to just dive right in.

“I think those aliens on that ship did something to communicate with us, and it's changed something. In me.” 

Young puts his elbows on the desk and leans forward, his face unreadable. “Go on.”

“They communicated through touch, yes?” 

Young inclines his head and waits for him to continue. It's difficult, though, to say what he has to say next without sounding trite or just goddamn ridiculous. “Well, I think that species relies on trust and contact, and perhaps as a defense mechanism, to keep their way of life possible, they need to communicate regularly... If they don't, their minds and bodies deteriorate. Or perhaps that's just the effect it has on humans, I can't know with any certainty.” 

Young gives him a long, hard look. “What are you saying, Rush?” 

Rush huffs. Of course Young would make him spell it out. Why did he think this was a good idea again? 

“I'm saying that that's what happened this afternoon, that's why I was distracted and feverish.” 

“Because you didn't talk to anyone for too long?” Young asks, but before Rush can express his annoyance, Young's face floods with understanding. “Touch. You mean touch.” 

Rush turns his face away, unwilling to make eye contact. “Yes.” 

“How long?” 

“Five days, since we came back on board.” 

Young looks pensive. “And Scott?” 

Rush gives a little half shrug, and moves to sit in the chair opposite Young. “I'm not sure, but I'd wager, yeah.” 

“Why are you telling me this now?” Young asks, and Rush can't tell whether there's suspicion running under those words. Most likely, given their history. 

Rush thinks about the question. A year ago, he would've kept this to himself. He would have done everything in his power to keep Young from finding out that something was going on with him, that he needed help. He'd have found a way to deal with this behind Young's back, no matter the consequences. But after their fight, when everyone had found out about the bridge, after he and Young had their talk, he'd finally realized that trying to work around Young was not the best way to deal with the man. And when Telford had wanted to dial Earth from the star, Young had proved how valuable an asset he could be. That he understood the importance of the mission. The look his double had sent the Colonel when he'd told them that Young had kept his word had wrenched something free in Rush. Perhaps that was the first time he could see the tentative possibility of friendship between them. In those few short months before stasis, everything between them just...got better. They are still nowhere near actual friendship, but the days of nefarious plotting and attempted murder seem equally distant. 

In truth, he's coming to Young now because he believes he can trust him. With _this_ , in any case. 

And if he's completely honest with himself, Young seems by far the least objectionable person on board of whom to ask this. At least he'll probably keep his mouth shut about it, and not force Rush to have endless talks about his feelings. He's rather certain he can't say the same for Camile. 

“Because I realized that's what happened outside the control interface room.” He can still feel the ghost imprint of Young's hand on his forehead. “And I'd prefer not to have a repeat of that situation.” 

Young frowns and leans back slightly, away from him. “I couldn't have known,” he says defensively, and crosses his arms across his chest. “But rest assured, I'll be more careful from now on.” 

Rush's head jerks up to Young's face. “No, that's...” _Fuck_. Fucking Young and his fucking simple-minded conclusions. This is why I don't tell you things, he wants to say. 

“What I meant—what I _should've_ said,” and it's a concession, and Young better bloody well appreciate that, “is that I don't want it to get to that point again.” 

“Oh,” is all Young says, as his shoulders lose some of their tension. His face is an impenetrable mask again, and Rush thinks that this is all so unfair. It's not _his_ fault, so why does he feel like he has to explain, like this is something he needs to apologize for?

“Believe me, Colonel, it's not pleasant to feel like I'm simultaneously on the verge of a nervous breakdown and a panic attack. To be unable to concentrate on anything, to have my heart beat out of my chest—” 

The words freeze in his mouth just as they're starting to gain traction, and he looks down to where Colonel Young has grabbed his hand. 

“It's okay, I get it,” Young says, and Rush knows that's bollocks, because how can _he_ understand it when Rush himself barely knows what's going on. But the emotions that wash through him – Young's emotions – keep him still. There's a sort of exasperated amusement, and a thread of worry, and something small and flickering that seems to vacillate between warm contentment and a self-satisfied exuberance. 

Rush pulls his hand back and scowls at Young. “I didn't mean right this moment!” 

Young holds both hands up in a placating manner, and moves back in his chair again. Rush thinks he sees a glitter of amusement in his eyes. He's quite certain he wouldn't have recognized it if he hadn't just felt it from the man. 

“Fine, just let me know when you need it then,” Young says matter-of-factly. “Tomorrow I'll talk to Scott to see how he's feeling. I won't involve anyone else, for now. I just need you to go see TJ for a check-up, figure out if there are any physiological changes.” 

Rush is relieved. 

Maybe, he thinks. _Maybe_ , this was the right idea. 

-

“Huh,” Scott says, after Young has brought him up to speed. “I, uh, hadn't noticed that, no.” 

He hasn't gone without touch for more than a couple of hours since returning to the ship. “But it makes sense, when Rush and I were stuck on the planet I got kind of twitchy and really annoyed.” 

Young laughs. “Well, you were stuck on a planet with Rush.”

Scott chuckles and ducks his head. “It was actually not that bad,” he says as he reaches back to scratch his neck. “We mostly just gathered food and slept. It was kind of relaxing, really.”

Young gives him an undecipherable look. “Alright, Scott, but if those aliens changed you, we need to know. I'm aware that this is an unusual request, but try to see if not touching anyone for two or three days influences you in any way.” 

Scott tries not to flush. “Yes, of course, sir.” 

It won't be easy, but Young is right. They need to know.

"There's something else. I've decided not to report this to Homeworld Command. Not if it can be avoided. I would like to request your cooperation, but you should know that you are well within your rights to refuse, Lieutenant." 

"Uh, sure," Scott says. "But why, sir?" 

Young sighs and rests his chin on his hand. After a while, he gives Scott a small smile. "Rush came to me with this, of his own accord. It's the first time he's ever really trusted me with anything. I think reciprocating that trust is more important than keeping the paper pushers at the SGC completely in the loop." 

Scott feels his own lips curl up in response, and he nods. "Yeah, of course. I understand. I suppose I shouldn't go telling everyone on board about this either, then?" 

"That would be preferable, yes," Young answers dryly. Then his eyes turn affectionate and he gives Scott that smile that would make him walk through fire for the man. "Thanks, Scott. You're a good man."

-

“But you feel okay?” she asks, after telling him he can get dressed again. 

“Aside from how ridiculously violating this is? Yeah, marvelous.” 

“Well, I can't find anything physically different about you. At least not with the limited range of instruments I have at my disposal here,” TJ says. She watches him pull on his shirts with barely contained frustration, and wonders if she should prescribe him something to calm down. 

“Well, this has been incredibly helpful, Lieutenant. Bloody illuminating, really.” 

She shrugs it off easily. “Listen, Doctor Rush, I can understand why you're upset about this. But for now, just go to the Colonel if you need it. He offered to help you with this. Take him up on that, alright?” 

He scoffs and sends her an offended glare. “I'm not a child.” 

As he stomps out of the infirmary, she feels her lips quirk up into a small smile. 

Yeah, that wasn't childish at all. 

-

Rush drags his hand through his hair and shakes his head as if he can shake away the fidgety distractedness that makes it impossible to rearrange the power flow algorithms into a more efficient order. The safeguard is one of Doctor Volker's best ideas as of yet, ensuring that five percent of shield power is reserved at all times so they can safely enter FTL no matter how damaged their shields get in battle. It will mean their shields are slightly less effective during alien attacks, but it's a trade-off they're all willing to make for the sake of a survivable getaway. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. It shouldn't be this hard to finish the calculations for his schematics, but he can't concentrate and it's driving him insane. 

It's been four days since his talk with Colonel Young, and he knows the man has given him permission to touch. But on the first day he was fine, so it felt unnecessary. And on the second day he kind of wanted to go to Young, but he didn't like the idea of asking for help, of coming across as weak or needy, so he kept working. By the third day just the thought of going over to Young's quarters made his stomach want to crawl out of his mouth, and now it's become this whole _thing_ , and he has no idea how to broach the subject casually anymore. 

So he's decided to just avoid Young altogether. It's been working, insofar as he's managed to avoid Young. His plan has also been kind of shite, insofar as he's currently unable to stop shaking, teetering on the brink of a heavy migraine, and almost completely incapable of doing his job.

“Goddamnit, Rush!” Young's voice startles him so badly he drops his piece of chalk. “Your radio is off. Where the hell have you been?” 

Rush seriously contemplates running away. But then Young huffs, and somehow he manages to make it sound both annoyed and amused, and Rush can't give him the satisfaction of watching him flee.

“I should've seen this coming,” Young says. “Well, at least your math corridor gives us some privacy.” 

And Rush wants to say 'why do we need privacy?', but instead the words sit in his throat and all he wants to do is touch Young. Young, whose gravitational pull on him has always been too strong, has always made him feel like a singular star struggling to escape a black hole. He can say none of this, and so he stays still, desperately trying to focus on keeping the tremors to a minimum. 

Young looks at him carefully. “Alright," he says, and he looks hesitant and uncomfortable and completely out of his depth. "So, how do you want to do this?” 

And that's _it_. Rush isn't having any of Young's wishy washy, touchy-feely, you-decide-how-this-plays-out nonsense. He grabs the front of Young's jacket and shoves him into the wall. That same rush of release, of yes yes yes _finally_ , roars through him, and he sags into Young's chest with a physical shiver as everything around him fades to the background. He doesn't know exactly how long he stands there like that, leaning into Young like the damsel on a cover of those flimsy romance novels Gloria had secretly loved. 

It isn't until the overwhelming sense of release starts coalescing into individual emotions – confusion, embarrassment, a wisp of lust – that he pushes away from Young. He stumbles back, because Jesus _fuck_ , that lust was him, because it's still there and his prick feels plump and heavy between his legs. 

Fuck. This is so fucking fucked up. 

“Rush? You okay?” Young asks, and he sounds _gentle_ , the shit. 

“Yes, fine,” he bites out, and that part of him that wanted to run away still thinks it's a good idea. 

“Christ, everything has to be hard with you,” Young growls, and Rush whips his head around because _no_ , there's no way he knows. Young gives him an indignant look. “Why the hell did you wait this long?” 

And thank _fuck_ , because having to explain to Colonel Young why a hand against his forehead or a chest to lean his shoulder into leave him well underway to an entirely inappropriate erection would mortify him. He'd have to kill Young. Or himself. 

“I,” Rush says, and he shakes his head as if that will get his thoughts back in line. “It just became this _thing_.” 

“Scott cracked after three days. Said he couldn't deal with it.” 

“I think it's getting worse. It was only four days this time, but it was stronger than before.” He must look miserable, because Young's face softens, and he cautiously reaches a hand out to touch his shoulder. 

“Alright, we'll be sure to make contact every day then. It doesn't have to be much, just, you know, something small whenever it's convenient. Agreed?” 

Rush nods. It's not like he has much choice. 

“If you try to avoid me, I'll come looking for you, Rush.” The grip on his shoulder firms for a second. “You know I'll find you and it will only be more awkward,” he says sternly. Rush feels Young's patience and his sympathy and that ever-present exasperated annoyance, and he steps sideways to let the hand slip from his shoulder. 

“You've made yourself perfectly clear, Colonel. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need to get back to work.” 

Young's eyebrow twitches up, and the look he gives Rush is wholly unimpressed. “Yeah, you do that. I'll see you in the mess hall in three hours.” And with that, he walks out of the corridor. 

Rush leans back into the wall and rubs his forehead. He needs to find a way to fix this.


	4. Chapter 4

Young scrubs his hand over his face as soon as he's out of Rush's math corridor. He needs to find a way to fix this. 

This whole touching business is not doing his peace of mind any good. If anything, it's threatening to awaken something he hasn't been willing to even contemplate since he met the man. 

But Jesus, when Rush had pushed him, leaned into him, _shivered_ into him, and that breathy gasp he'd made as every bit of tension just drained out of him... It was too close to sex, and it did something to him. In that instant, he'd wanted to wrap his hand into Rush's hair. He'd wanted to angle Rush's face to his own, to possessively kiss and suck and bite at that mouth. To force more of those breathless noises out of him. To make him come for real. 

It was over almost as soon as it started, and when Rush stepped away from him, Young was left feeling dizzy and unbalanced. 

The place where Rush had leaned into him still feels strangely warm, but he snaps himself out of it. He's not going to think about it anymore. 

Right, Young thinks as he rounds a corner into the next corridor. At least they've come to an agreement considering the touching. It isn't a solution to the problem, merely a stop-gap while they look for an actual fix, but at least he'll know Rush is around and functional for when the next crisis arises. They can't risk getting caught off guard by any threats because their Chief Scientist is going through touch-detox. 

-

He is a bit surprised to see Rush stepping into the mess hall for dinner. He half expected him not to show up just to demonstrate he doesn't take orders, but apparently Rush has decided differently. That's good. Young makes eye contact with him, and Rush reluctantly makes his way over to sit across from him. He may have skipped a few meals as well, judging by his ravenous attack on the vegetable stew Becker has created with yesterday's leftovers. 

“How're you feeling?” Young asks. 

Rush looks up from his food and shrugs. “Better than this morning.” 

And Young isn't sure, because when Rush isn't being a lying, sneaky, secretive bastard he has no idea what goes on in the man's head, but he thinks that might be as close to a thank-you as he's going to get. 

“I finished the work on that safeguard for the shields. Volker and Brody are putting it in place as we speak,” Rush says around a bite of his stew. 

Young nods. That's also good.

“I've been thinking, you brought that communication device with you from that alien ship. Can't we use that to contact them, see if they know a way to undo the change?” 

Rush gives him a startled look, as if the idea of any kind of thought roaming around in Young's head is still shocking to him. Young might have taken offense if he'd been in a worse mood, but as it is he just feels an amused warmth trickle through him. Rush shakes his head and takes another bite of his food. 

“They know it'll take us at least thirteen months to reach their galaxy with our current FTL capability. Maybe ten if I can manage to improve our drives with what I've learned from their systems. They've gone back into stasis, and they won't come out for at least another eight or nine months.” 

Well, that's no help then. Young searches Rush's face. 

“We'll keep looking. Maybe TJ will find something in the medical database.”

Rush ducks his head and lets his spoon clatter into his empty bowl. “That would certainly be convenient.” 

The conversation stalls, and Young feels an itch of discomfort trawl up his back. Usually, Rush would've left by now, but something unspoken is keeping him. 

“Do you want...?” Young asks after an expectant silence, and Rush's eyes flick to him sharply. He seems irritated. 

“No, we did today already,” Rush says, as he gets up from the table. 

“Fine. Tomorrow then,” Young reminds him. 

“Yes, Colonel, I remember,” Rush calls over his shoulder. And then he's gone. 

-

That night, Young is in his quarters when his radio goes off.

 _“Colonel, we're about to drop out of FTL for a recharge.”_ It's Greer's voice. 

Young palms the button on his radio. “Understood. How long before we reach the star?” 

_“A little over four hours, sir.”_

“Copy that, Young out.” 

He sits back in his chair and looks at the paperwork on his desk. It's about 23:00 Earth time, and he is looking forward to going to bed. The ship lurches, and everything goes fuzzy for a split second. They've dropped out of FTL. 

_“Sir,”_ crackles through his radio. _“We've got company. You'd better head over to the bridge.”_

-

“Report,” Young demands as soon as he walks into the bridge. 

“Well, uh, _that_ ,” Eli points out the window to where a medium-sized alien ship is following them silently, matching their sublight speed. “They were just there when we dropped out. I've sent them a message. You know, 'Hi, we're no threat, who are you?'. They replied, but it's not in any Ancient I've ever seen. I'm scanning the database for a translation now.” 

Young looks over at Rush. “How are we as far as shields and weapons go?” 

“Maximum shield strength is at seventy percent, but we've held off on dialing them up to full capacity for now.” Young nods, dialing up the shields is a defensive move, but it can easily be construed as an act of aggression. He remembers what it felt like to be torn apart by shearing forces and fire in the repeat simulation the ship put him through, and keeps his face neutral. “Main weapon is offline as well, but fully functional.” 

“Alright. Scott, Greer, go to the shuttle and get into position. If things turn hostile, I want you to be our flexible gun.” 

“Yes, sir,” Scott and Greer respond in unison. They've just marched out of the bridge when Eli groans. 

“Okay, it looks like it might be some sort of Ancient dialect. If I'm right, what it says here is basically 'Turn around. You are trespassing. Trespassers will be killed'.” He makes a face. “They sound like nice, well-adjusted aliens.” 

“Send them another message: We're just passing through their star, we're no threat.”

“Yeah, working on it.” Eli's fingers fly over his monitor. “Sent.” 

“How much longer until we reach the star?” 

“Three hours, give or take,” Rush answers. 

“They've just replied with the same message. I think we should get the shields up to max, guys.” 

Young flicks his eyes over to Rush. It's something that's taken him a while to learn, but checking with Rush before making these kinds of decisions has greatly improved their working relationship, ever since before they went into stasis. It's probably also improved their survival rate, because Rush is the single most determined person on board to keep Destiny in one piece. Rush looks him in the eye and gives him a tight nod. 

“Do it, dial up the shields,” Young commands. Using the shipwide intercom, he announces that they are about to be attacked and that all civilians need to retreat to their quarters. Military personnel is expected to wait for orders. 

_“Sir, we're in position in the shuttle,”_ Scott's voice sounds through his radio. 

“Standby, Lieutenant. We're waiting to see how this plays out.” 

_“Understood.”_

“They're about to activate their weapon,” Rush says. 

“Bring our weapon online, but do not fire until I say so.” 

“Incoming!” 

The bright burst of energy looks like a white ball of light hurtling towards them. Young can see it from the window of the bridge. He watches it explode onto the shield over the hull. A second shot is already coming their way. 

“Their weapon is barely registering on the shields,” Brody says. 

“Their firing rate is insane, but their weapon's strength is pretty weak, yeah.” Eli sounds almost excited as he pulls up different screens on his monitor. 

“If this is the extent of their firepower, we'll survive this relying purely on our shields,” Rush says.

Young nods tightly. The barrage of incoming fire doesn't let up, but the ship barely trembles with each impact. 

“Scott, Greer, our shields are holding steady. Hold your position, but stay docked.” Undocking the shuttle, thus creating a weak spot in the shield during the continuous onslaught of enemy fire, is an unnecessary risk. 

_“Copy that, sir.”_

Young steps up to Rush and looks over his shoulder. Rush has pulled up a diagnostics overview of Destiny's systems, and the shields only flicker between 70% and 69% whenever they take a hit. 

“Lucky that their weapon is no match for our shields,” Young says. 

“Yeah,” Rush agrees. “Although we should think about what that means. It's likely their regular enemies have low defenses but high agility. I'm not sure how well Destiny would fare against them.” 

Young nods, but it's a different problem for a different day. For now he'll be happy if they can pass through the star unharmed. 

“Why would they say we were trespassing?” Volker asks from the console next to Rush's. 

“Can't be sure, but if I were a betting man, I'd say they're protecting something,” Young answers. 

“Yeah, but there's nothing here.” 

Young shrugs. “I don't know either, Volker. Maybe they're just territorial. Maybe what they're protecting isn't showing up on our sensors. Maybe it's not here, but somewhere else, and these guys are just the first line of defense.” 

“Colonel, something is happening,” Rush says from beside him. “Their attack has seized, but their weapon seems to be charging.” 

“As in, recharging?” 

“I don't think so. I think they realized our defenses are too strong.” 

The alien ship lies still for several long minutes, until suddenly, a new shot is fired. This one is brighter, several times bigger, and when it hits Destiny the ship shakes with it. 

“Okay, that one registered!” Eli yells. “Shields are down ten percent!” 

“We won't make it on just our shields if this keeps up!” Volker says. 

“Fire at them with the main weapon!” Young commands. 

“If they hit us while we're redirecting all power to the main weapon, it's over!” Rush warns him. 

“They need time to reload, right?” 

“We don't know exactly how much!” 

Young frowns. Rush is right. “Hold off on shooting the main weapon for now. How long since their last hit?” 

Rush types something on his monitor. “Two minutes.” 

Everyone watches tensely as the other ship powers up for a second shot. When it's fired, Rush says “Six minutes, thirty-four seconds.” 

Destiny shakes heavily with the impact again, and Young hears Eli say, “Shields are down to less than forty-five percent.”

“Now! Fire the main weapon!” 

The first five hits are right on target, but Rush turns around and shakes his head at him. “It's not working, their shields are too strong.” 

“We're not even making a dent,” Brody concurs. 

“We need to incapacitate their weapon systems. Aim at that,” Rush says. 

Young nods at Eli. “Do it!” Then, turning back to Rush, “How much time do we have left?” 

“Three minutes, fifty seconds.”

“Eli!” 

“Yes, yes, I'm working on it!” Eli yells back. “Okay, got it!” 

Seven more shots are fired from Destiny. 

“Is it working?” Young asks. 

“Their shields are holding.” Rush drags his hand through his hair. “Less than one minute before they fire.” 

“Stop firing the main weapon, bring the shields back to full power,” Young orders. 

“We can't keep going like this. Two more hits from them and our shields are gone!” Eli says. 

“We won't survive a direct hit of that magnitude without the shields,” Rush adds. 

The ship shakes dangerously as it takes fire again. 

“Shields down to twenty-six percent,” Eli calls out. “We cannot take another hit, guys!” 

“Colonel, we need to send the shuttle out there,” Rush says. “The only time we can do any damage is when their shields are weakened because all power flow is relegated to their weapon. The next time they fire at us, Scott and Greer can use the shuttle to take out their weapon systems.” 

“If they get hit by that blast, they're dead,” Young argues. 

“If we do nothing, we're all dead!” Rush counters. 

Young has to concede that Rush has a point. He doesn't have time to let this roll around in his head, he needs to make a decision, _now_. 

He palms the button on his radio. “Scott, Greer, I need you to fly as close as you can to their weapon systems. Do not get between it and us, you won't survive a direct hit. As soon as their systems become active, shoot it with all you've got!” 

_“Understood, sir. We're underway.”_

“Five minutes,” Rush says.

“Keep shooting at the ship, hopefully it'll distract them,” Young orders. “You'd better hope they don't suspect what we're up to and just aim at the shuttle,” he says to Rush. 

Rush glares at him. “You think I don't know that?!” 

“Guys, I think it's working,” Eli says. “They're using our shots as cover to make their way over to the ship from below.” 

Young tries to stow away his doubts and believe this will work. 

They all watch as the shuttle makes its way over to the underside of the enemy ship and parks itself behind it. Young hopes they're at a safe distance. 

_“We're in position, sir,”_ Scott's voice crackles through his radio. 

“Copy that, Lieutenant. Good luck.” 

“Thirty seconds,” Rush says. 

“Weapons off, shields up!” Young commands. He shoots Rush a glance, and the man looks back at him, and for a second he knows that Rush is thinking exactly the same thing as he is. 

_Please let this work._

“They're shooting!” Eli calls out. 

The impact shakes the entire ship, and Eli lets out a loud whoop. “They didn't go for the shuttle!” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Shields are down to two percent.” 

_“Colonel, I think we did it,”_ Scott's voice sounds through his radio. 

“Great work, you two!” Young grins into his radio. “Now get the hell back here.” 

_“On our way, sir!”_

“We won't know for sure if their weapon is offline until the next time they fire,” Rush says with a stiff expression. “We should keep the shuttle in position.” 

Young looks at him incredulously. “Those aliens know what we did by now, if their weapons are still working they'll aim straight at them!” 

“If their weapons are still working and they aim at us, we're dead!”

“Our shields are still at two percent, we'd probably survive the hit,” Young counters. 

“Maybe. _Maybe_ we'll survive that hit. But in order to have another chance at dismantling their weapons we'd need the shuttle to shoot at them while _they're shooting at us_. I can assure you we won't survive that second hit.” 

“I am not leaving those boys out there to get shot!” Young shouts. 

“I don't see that you have a choice!” Rush yells back. 

Young wants to throttle him, but he doesn't have time for this. “Then you're just plain wrong, Rush. Ready the main weapon!” 

Rush narrows his eyes at him. 

“They've been pretty damn consistent, always firing exactly six minutes, thirty-four seconds after their last shot. We'll shoot their weapon at the exact moment they shoot.” 

“We'll be unprotected,” Rush says. 

“Our shields are at two percent, they're not going to hold anyway. At least this way we have a chance. All of us.” 

Rush looks like he wants to argue. 

“We're doing this, Rush,” Young says, and miraculously, Rush backs down. “How long do we have?” 

Rush looks down at his console. “Twenty-three seconds.” 

“Is our weapon ready?” 

“Ready!” Volker calls from the corner console. 

_“Sir, we're docked,”_ Scott says through his radio. 

“Alright, Eli, if you would do our countdown.” 

“On it,” Eli says. “Okay, everyone, brace yourselves! 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Now!” 

They shoot, and the light from their fire blinds them to the weapon of the enemy ship. For two long seconds they watch their shot travel to its target, unsure of whether they're about to be hit themselves. When their shot connects, it explodes off the enemy's shield without doing any real damage. 

Young lets out a sigh of relief. “We're not hit. Scott and Greer destroyed their weapon.” 

“We did it!” Eli cheers. 

Even Rush seems glad. 

“How much longer until we fly into the star?” Young asks Rush. 

Rush checks his monitor. “A little over ninety minutes.”

“What's the other ship doing?” Eli asks. “Is it just gonna keep following us?” 

Young looks at the ship, then at Rush. 

Rush shrugs. “They have no weapon.” 

“Well, that's not creepy at all,” Eli says. 

“Uh, guys,” Volker says after a few minutes. “The ship is getting closer.” 

Eli squints out the window and then furiously types on his monitor. “Crap, they're faster than us.” 

“They're planning to ram us?” Young asks. 

“I don't know, but if that's their plan, we'll fall just less than one minute short of the star before they hit us!” 

“Our shields are practically non-existent at the moment, we may not survive a full-on collision,” Brody says. 

“Use the thrusters from the shuttle.” Young looks at Rush as he proposes it, and Rush tilts his head speculatively before giving him a quick nod. 

“That'd give us the advantage we need.” 

“Do it!” 

Rush enters the command into his monitor. 

“It'll be tight, but we'll make it with fourteen seconds to spare,” Eli says from where he's calculating their trajectory on his console. 

Young watches the other ship through the window. 

“They're slowing down!” Volker says, after a long moment. 

“They're not prepared to crash themselves into the star for a pointless suicide run.” Rush looks at Young with a small crooked smile. “I guess we live to fight another day.” 

Young laughs, relief coursing thickly through his veins. “I guess we do. Well done, everyone!” 

The next hour and a half are spent in a state of cautious celebration and damage assessment, while everyone warily keeps an eye on the stilled alien ship.

He and Rush stand side by side to look out the window of the bridge when they finally enter the star and leave the enemy ship behind. 

“We got lucky,” Rush says after a while. “But this won't work a second time.”

Young sighs. “I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

He's in the control interface room when Young walks in. 

“Gentlemen,” Young greets Volker and Brody with a nod. 

“Oh, hi Colonel,” Volker says. He shoots a quick glance at Rush. “We're just on our way to replace a few relays in the south corridors.” And with that, he and Brody are out of the room. 

“Colonel Young,” Rush says. 

Young takes a few steps closer to him. “Rush.” The Colonel looks as if he hasn't slept much, which is probably accurate. The silence stretches out between them, and Rush is about to turn back to his console when Young says, “We need to think about how to prepare for a next attack.” 

Rush nods slowly. The enemy ship had nearly impenetrable defenses, as far as he could tell, and their weapon had essentially torn down Destiny's shields in three hits. 

“I'm assuming they won't fall for the same trick twice, so we need a plan,” Young says. 

“They were waiting near a star. We can either drop out of FTL further away from the next star, at least a few hours further off, so that if we get ambushed near it we can jump into FTL without damaging our drives.” Young gives him a considering look. “Or we can drop out right next to a star, immediately enter it, and face any possible attackers with a full tank of gas, so to speak. Depending on their distance from the sun, it might take long enough for them to reach us that we can safely jump into FTL again without ever even needing to fight them.”

“That, or we'll have to fight them for the full four hours, which we won't survive.” 

“The first option leaves us with empty energy reserves. The second one leaves us wide open to attack.” Rush shrugs. If there was an easy solution, Young wouldn't have come to him. 

“We assumed they were lying in wait to protect something, so let's say there's more of them. Like a net intended to fish out any unwanted flotsam. If it's a coordinated effort, chances are the other places will be comparable to the one yesterday, with an ambush at a few hours sublight distance from a solar system.” 

The Colonel seems to be thinking out loud, so Rush lets him talk. He's somewhat interested to see where Young's thought process will take him. 

“But all of these are assumptions. It might as well have just been a lone pirate ship,” Young says. 

“Well, you know what they say, Colonel,” Rush quips dryly, “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” 

“If I have to choose between not filling up our tank or getting stuck in a four-hour battle with these guys, I'd prefer the empty tank. We don't have to wait to test this until our energy runs out, we can manually try recharging in the next available star to see what happens.” 

Rush nods, and types a command into his console. “There's a good candidate two days from here.” 

“Let's play it safe and drop out twelve hours sublight distance from the star,” Young proposes, and Rush agrees. 

Well, he thinks. That was surprisingly effortless. 

Young seems to hesitate, and then holds out his right hand. His face is unreadable as he looks at Rush. 

Ah, they did say every day. 

Rush reaches out his own right hand and shakes Young's. It's nice. It's companionable, and low-key, and somehow just simple. It makes him feel relaxed, and he isn't sure if that's because of what the Lii did to him, or if he's just starting to feel a bit more comfortable with the Colonel after all this time stuck on Destiny together. 

He can tell Young is tired, a bit nervous, and worried. But he also feels some relief float around in there, and a quiet purr of contentment. 

When Rush withdraws his hand, he gives Young a nod. 

Young slowly breaks out into a grin. “This has all been uncharacteristically easy today.” 

Rush allows a small smile onto his face. “I was just thinking the same.” 

-

The next two days are relatively uneventful. Which is good, because uneventful means everything is fine and their energy reserves are still at 97%. It also means Rush has finally gotten some time to take a closer look at the FTL modifications he's been considering since learning about Lii technology. He hasn't worked out exactly how to improve the heat resistance of the drive transistors, but the Lii's FTL tech seems more compatible with Destiny's Ancient systems than he'd first expected. 

“Colonel Young, this is Volker. We're about to drop out of FTL,” Volker says into his radio. He's working at the console next to Rush. 

_“Copy that, Doctor Volker, I'm on my way to the bridge now.”_

The FTL drives grind to a halt, and everything goes blurry for a moment. Rush glances up when Young walks into the bridge. 

“We're a little over twelve hours away from a red dwarf,” Volker says. 

“Our sensors aren't picking up any ships,” Eli adds. 

Young sits down in the command chair and looks over at Rush. “No ambush, then.” 

“Seems that way,” Rush says with a half shrug. He feels tense now that they're out of FTL. As if he's just waiting for something bad to happen.

“So now we just, uh. Wait?” Eli asks after fifteen minutes. “To reach the star?” 

“We'll take three hour shifts,” Young says. “No need for everyone to stay cooped up here for the next twelve hours.” 

“Wait,” Rush says. “Something just dropped out of FTL. It's the same type of ship.”

“Where are they?” Young asks. 

“They dropped out a few hours from here.” Rush makes a quick calculation. “If we steer away from them, we can probably get away before they reach us.” 

“Guys, another one just appeared,” Eli says. “This one is a bit closer.” 

Rush bends over his console and brings up a radar chart. The first ship dropped out a fair distance to their right. The second one is closer than the first, but still a few hours out, to their left. 

A third ship blinks into existence almost straight ahead of them. “Shit,” Brody says. “They're trapping us.”

“We can't outrun them if there's three of them,” Eli says, typing rapidly on his console. “We'll fall more than ten minutes short!” 

“Well, we've got to try,” Young says matter-of-factly.

Eli immediately starts calculating the course, and Rush looks over at Young. The man is frowning, and Rush steps away from his console and walks over to the command chair. He leans his hands on the edge of the command station. “We're being tracked.” 

“Yeah, but what I don't understand is why they didn't drop out closer to us,” Young says. “It's like they're giving us a chance to get away.” 

“It's possible the signal from their tracker was simply too weak to pinpoint our location from FTL.” 

“We need to find that tracker.” 

Rush nods. “Within the next three and a half hours, if possible. It will be a lot harder to remove it once we're in FTL again.” 

-

 _“Sir, we've found it. It's on the right side of the hull. It's really small, so we'll need to get outside to remove it.”_ Scott's voice sounds tinny through the radio. 

“Understood, Lieutenant. Get into those space suits quickly and destroy it. You have forty-five minutes before the enemy ships get within reach, so hurry up,” Young replies. 

_“Yes, sir.”_

Eli looks at him with worried eyes. “We'll have to fight for twelve minutes before we can go back into FTL.”

“Yes, you told me.” 

“How are we going to survive that?! We nearly got crushed when it was just the one ship!” 

Young sighs. True, it will be a close call, but this is not the time to panic. “Look, Eli, our shields are at top capacity, we have a full tank of gas, and their weapons take a long time to reload. We'll be fine.” 

Eli looks unconvinced, but he settles back into his chair. Young looks at where Rush is working on his console. His shoulders are tight with tension as his fingers flit over his monitor. He's obviously worried too. 

Somehow this time is always the worst. When you know something bad is about to happen, but you can't do anything but wait. With actual battle, there's adrenaline and snap decisions and action, but with this, right now, it's just anxiety and impatience and hoping you're sufficiently prepared. Young drums his fingers against the armrest and waits. 

Twenty minutes later Scott radioes to tell him they've destroyed the tracker. Another twenty minutes go by in tense expectancy, and then the first ship is on them. 

It fires immediately, and Young hears Volker yell “Hold on!” before the ship shakes with the impact. 

“Shields at eighty-five percent,” Eli calls. Young shoots him a glance and sees the look of steely determination on his face. “Second ship will be here in four minutes.” 

Young gives him a nod. They will be back in FTL before the third ship arrives. 

The second ship approaches them from the left, but instead of firing immediately, it stays silent. 

“What is it doing?” Volker asks. 

“I'm getting the same message again, that we're trespassing,” Eli says. 

“Leave it,” Young says. “Could it be the ship we ran into the first time? Are their weapons not working?” 

Rush turns around in his seat and shakes his head. “This is a different one.” 

“They're going to shoot at the same time!” Eli says, just before both ships fire simultaneously. 

This time, the impact jerks the entire ship to the side. Young barely stays seated, and he rams his ribcage into his console painfully. The ship creaks around them and sparks fly. An alarm blares loudly, and he sees Brody slowly get up from where he was thrown into the corner of the bridge. 

“What the hell was _that_?” Eli shrieks. “Shields are down!” 

Rush furiously enters commands into his console. “Fuck! They're opening fire again!” 

“How is that possible?” Young bellows over the sound of the alarm. He doesn't have to wait for an answer, because he can see it from the window. The shots are small and fast, and where they hit Destiny, pieces of metal are torn off her in silvery gray ribbons. 

Rush slams a fist down on his console and the alarm abruptly stops. “We have no shields!” 

Another barrage of sparks sprays over them, and Young ducks reflexively. “How much longer until we can jump?” 

“Two minutes.” Rush cusses and claps his hand over his right arm, where the edges of a tiny round hole in his t-shirt are smoldering. He's right below the row of ceiling monitors from which the last rain of sparks emitted. 

“Will we make it that long?” 

Rush meets his gaze, and Young can tell he looks torn. “We have to. If we destroy our FTL drives now we're dead the next time we drop out.” 

Young wants to order Rush to put up the safeguard shields, but he knows they can't risk it. They can't jump into FTL without them. He curses. 

“Our shields are down anyway, can't we use the main weapon to try and destroy theirs?” Eli says. 

Rush gives a tight nod. 

“Do it!” Young orders. Their weapon fires almost immediately. 

“Got one!” Eli crows after thirty seconds, as the entire ship feels like it's shaking apart around them. 

“There!” Brody says, when the ship straight ahead of them suddenly stops firing. 

“Rush!” Young calls.

“Ten seconds,” Rush answers tersely. “We're going to make it.” 

As Rush counts down to FTL, Young looks around him. Eli is white as a sheet, Brody is bleeding from a head wound, three of the ceiling monitors appear damaged beyond repair, and from what he can see from the window, there are at least five new breaches on the hull. When Destiny finally jumps, he can feel a collective sigh of relief go through the bridge.

He types in a few simple commands and pulls up the diagnostics screen. At least they will have some time to repair the damages before they'll have to recharge in a star; their energy level is at a solid eighty percent. 

“Volker, get Brody to the infirmary,” Young orders. He grabs his radio and says into it, “Scott, TJ, I need a status update.” 

Young looks at Rush, who is rubbing above his right eye like he has a headache. “Rush, I need to know the extent of the damage.”

Rush's eyes flick over to him, and he inclines his head before turning back to his console. 

_“Sir, we're checking civilian quarters for wounded now. The observation deck was damaged during the attack as well, so we're telling people not to go there,”_ Scott says. 

“Copy that, Lieutenant.” 

_“Colonel, I have seven wounded here. Two are unconscious, the rest are minor wounds,”_ TJ's voice comes through his radio. 

“I've just sent Brody over to you as well, he was bleeding from a head wound. Do you have enough hands over there?” 

_“Yes, we're fine for now. I've got Chloe, James, and Varro helping me.”_

“Alright, keep me posted.” 

_“Yes, sir.”_

Young gets up from his seat and walks over to Eli. He claps him on the shoulder proudly. “Nice shooting.” 

Eli gives him a half smile before he turns back to his console. “We were hit pretty hard. I still don't get why our shields just suddenly collapsed like that.” 

“Okay,” Young says to both him and Rush. “Lay it on me, what's the damage?” 

“We have eight hull breaches, about half of those in the spaces we occupy, most notably the observation deck,” Rush says. 

“They also hit the shuttle near the end, but the damage there is limited since it still had its own shields up,” Eli adds. “It'll need some repairs before it's safe for flying again, though.” 

“The rest of the damage seems limited to burnt out power relays and a number of exploded cells in the shield systems. We'll need to fix that,” Rush says. 

“We'll need to fix everything,” Young sighs. “But I guess it's nice to have a place to start.” 

-

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent dealing with the immediate clean-up after the attack. By the time he remembers Rush and his whole touch thing, it's near midnight. He wants nothing more than to take off his shoes and grab a few quick hours of sleep before everything starts up again, but he forces himself to make his way over to Rush's quarters. 

When he knocks on the door it whirrs open almost immediately, as if Rush had been standing right next to it. 

“Colonel,” Rush says, and Young can't decipher his tone. Rush steps aside to let Young in, and starts pacing. He looks every bit the eccentric professor. His glasses are askew, his hair is a mess, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. If Young had to guess, he'd say Rush has been pacing for a while now. 

“You alright, Rush?” 

Rush stops and looks at him. He rubs above his eyebrow again, and he frowns. After a few moments he says, “I think it's exacerbated by stress.”

Ah. He doesn't even bother berating Rush for not coming to him sooner. It's late, they're tired, and they both just want to get this over with, so Young simply offers his right hand. 

Rush gives him a relieved look, and grips it in a strong handshake. His left hand closes around Young's wrist tightly, and Rush's eyes drift shut as that tension Young had spotted earlier on the bridge finally seems to drain out of his shoulders. 

Young's lips quirk up at the contented sigh that he's sure Rush didn't mean to let slip. 

He doesn't know exactly when it happened, but beneath the exasperation and the annoyance, beneath that volatile, high voltage current that powers all their interactions, the animosity has faded and in its place he's started to develop a certain fondness for Rush. His passion for Destiny and her mission, his whip-smart mind, those rare moments he allows other people to see his vulnerabilities... Young has never met a more difficult person than Doctor Nicholas Rush in his entire life, but if someone were to come up to him and tell him he could swap Rush out for anyone else of his choosing, he'd decline without even thinking about it. 

When Rush opens his eyes, he looks down at their hands with a hint of confusion. He quickly lets go of Young's wrist, and then takes back his right hand as well. 

“Alright, if that's all, I'm about ready to drop.” Young steps back and presses the door mechanism. “See you tomorrow, Rush.” 

“Goodnight, Colonel,” Rush says. And if his voice sounds a bit breathless underneath the heavy accent, Young doesn't notice it.


	6. Chapter 6

After word of the attack makes its way to Earth, Telford shows up via the communication stones. Young greets him warmly, but silently curses his timing. He doesn't need to be dealing with whatever agenda David's pushing right now, not when the ship is falling apart and they are being pursued by an enemy they can't win against. 

He has a meeting with Camile and Rush planned, so that's where he goes. Telford decides to sit in on it, and Young can almost _see_ the daggers Rush glares at the man. The corner of Young's mouth wants to quirk up, but he opts to keep his face passive and kicks off the meeting. 

“Alright, Rush, what do we need to fix, and what do we need to fix it?” 

Rush turns his attention to him, and Young can tell from the shadows under his eyes that he hasn't slept well. “The maximum capacity of our shields is currently at about a third of what it was before yesterday's attack. A number of power cells are burnt out, and we need silicium to repair them.” 

“Silicium?” Camile asks. 

“Looks like a dark gray metal, very specific conductive abilities,” Rush answers dismissively. “Destiny relies on it for multiple systems, the shields, the FTL drives, the temperature portions of life support.” 

“Fine,” Young says. “Where do we get it?” 

“There's a star system about a day from here, a planet with a stargate and large reserves of silicium, according to the scans.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“If this stuff is so important, why haven't you stocked up on it before now?” Telford asks. 

Young sees the annoyance flit over Rush's features before he schools his face back into a mask of blank disinterest. “It was one of the few minerals Destiny had a reserve of when we came aboard. We have plenty left for normal everyday repairs, but the damage to the shields – and the extent of it – was unforeseen. We need more silicium than we currently have to repair it.” 

“We can collect enough to repair our shields and restock our reserves,” Young says to Telford. 

“How do we know we won't be attacked again?” Camile asks. 

Young looks at her. “We destroyed the tracker they planted on us. Unless we drop out right next to one of their ships, they shouldn't be able to find us.” 

She looks hesitant, but Rush says, “We don't have much choice. If we run into these aliens again with damaged shields, we're dead.” 

Camile nods uneasily, and that's how it is decided. 

-

“Atmosphere is breathable, temperature is around twelve degrees Celsius,” Eli says as he checks the kino remote. “Looks nice, if you're into sparkly barren wastelands and all that.” 

Scott shoots Eli a small smile before turning to look at Young. 

“Scott, James, you both take your teams through the gate and collect as much silicium as you can. We need at least four kino sleds of the stuff,” Young reiterates. “We have seventeen hours on the clock, so you should have plenty of time.” 

Scott and James chorus a 'yessir', and lead their teams through the gate. 

“Eli, you keep an eye on them with the kino,” Young says. “I'm going to see what Rush is up to.” 

“Okay,” Eli answers, eyes glued to the kino monitor. 

Rush is on the bridge alone, frowning down at his console. 

“Something wrong?” Young asks. 

Rush looks up, and rubs at his neck. “Headache,” he says. 

Young is reasonably sure that's code for 'I need to touch'. He steps up to stand next to him and puts a hand on Rush's shoulder. Instead of flinching away, or commenting on it, Rush subtly leans into the touch as he continues pulling up different screens on his console. 

It's strange how normal it feels, Young thinks. It's almost casual, this, something he's never been able to say about any contact between him and Rush, especially the physical. He can't deny that he enjoys it, a little bit.

“Telford went back to Earth,” Young says conversationally. 

“Finally,” Rush mumbles, although it was a very short visit, for David's standards. Young kind of agrees with Rush. 

“This helping?” he asks, when the silence is starting to become a bit oppressive. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Rush says, and shrugs Young's hand off his shoulder. 

“You really hate this, huh?” 

Rush gives him an unreadable look, and then casts his glance aside. His hand is rubbing at his neck muscles again. “As you may have noticed, I'm not a very tactile person,” he says eventually. Young remembers how he was when Amanda Perry was on the ship. They were practically glued together for the entirety of her time on Destiny, constantly bumping into each other's space, sharing whispered conversations no one else could follow. But other than her, he's not sure he's ever seen Rush carelessly touch anyone on the ship. 

“Is there anything I can do to make it less... unpleasant?” Young asks. 

Rush looks a bit taken aback, but then he shakes his head with a small smirk. “No, you've been a perfect gentleman, Colonel.” Rush's voice is amused, and he isn't sure if Rush is mocking him. 

Young gives him a blank stare before shrugging the whole thing off. “Alright. I'm going to check on the rest of the ship and get us something to eat.” 

-

When he gets back to the bridge, several hours have passed. He hands Rush a mug of strong tea and a bowl of yesterday's leftovers, and sits down at the console next to him. 

They eat in silence for a while. 

Suddenly, a 'blip' sound causes Rush's eyes to flick to the monitor. “No,” he says, as he puts his bowl on the dashboard in front of him. 

Young stands up to look over his shoulder and sees it too. Two enemy ships are advancing on them quickly. “Eli, get the teams back to the ship right now!” he says into his radio. 

_“Colonel? They're like three hours out,”_ Eli replies. 

“We won't make it,” Rush says. “They'll be here in two.” He's typing furiously on his console, and Young turns on the intercom to make a shipwide announcement. 

“This is Colonel Young. We have enemy ships incoming, but they won't be here for another two hours. Everyone, return to your quarters and await further instructions.” 

“There was more than one tracker,” Rush says. 

“We don't have time to search for the other one. They're the size of a hand, we'll never find it in time.” 

Rush casts his eyes to the side, an intense expression of concentration on his face. Young looks out the window into space. He's not sure how they're going to make it out of this. _If_ they're going to make it out of this. These aliens are too strong, and Destiny is already torn up from the last confrontation with them. Jesus, but he's not going to leave Scott and James behind on that barren planet. He won't.

“Eli, come up here,” Rush says into his radio, pulling Young out of his thoughts. “I need you to make some calculations.” He turns to Young. “I have an idea to get rid of any other trackers, but even if it works, we're going to have to jump before those ships get here. Our shields are at a third of their capacity and there is no chance we'll survive for even half an hour against two of them.” 

“We're not going to leave those eight people stranded there!” 

“Don't worry about it, it will only be temporary,” Rush says calmly, just as Eli enters the bridge. 

“Rush.” Young tries to contain the impatience in his voice, but if Rush doesn't start explaining soon, so help him God. 

Rush sighs, like it's _his_ fault he can't deduce Rush's plan from three words and a radio call to Eli. 

“Look, we can't fight these ships right now,” Rush explains, more patiently than Young had expected. “So we go into FTL before they reach us. We drop out four hours from here, in range of a stargate planet. We'll send a recovery team through, they'll hop from gate to gate, until they find our silicium planet. While we're dropped out, we'll...basically invert the shield for a split second, destroying any trackers that are still on us.” 

“We can do that?” Young asks. Glorious relief is working its way down his limbs like soothing rivulets of water. Rush has a plan. Of course Rush has a plan. God, does he appreciate that man right now.

“Yes, but it's not without risk. The calculations need to be perfect; if we're even an attosecond off, we might implode the entire ship. That's where you and Chloe come in, Eli.” 

“Seriously, an attosecond?” Eli asks disbelievingly. 

Rush narrows his eyes at him. 

“Okay,” Eli acquiesces. “But even if we destroy the trackers, they'll still know where we are. What if we can't get away in time?” 

“We jump.”

“That will fry our FTL drives,” Young says. 

“Yes. We'll drop out somewhere in range of a stargate between where we are now and where we drop off the retrieval team. They'll have to find their way to us with the silicium, and we can use a portion of that to fix the FTL drives. As long as the aliens can't track us, we'll have all the time we need to repair the drives and the shields.” 

Young frowns. "How can we be certain they won't find us there? The drones in the last galaxy tracked us based on the gates we dialed."

Rush gestures at the viewscreen. "If they could do that, would they drop out two hours away? They simply don't seem to be very advanced at tracking."

“And you think it'll work?” 

“It's the best I've got, Colonel,” Rush replies resolutely. 

“Scott, James,” Young says into his radio. “We're about to be attacked by those aliens again. We'll have to jump before they get here. We can't wait for you to make it back to the gate, but we'll send a retrieval team your way in a couple of hours.” 

_“Understood, sir. Will you be okay?”_

“Rush has a plan,” he says. “You keep collecting that silicium, we're going to need every bit you can find. Start making your way back to the gate in four or five hours.” 

_“Copy that. Good luck, sir.”_

“You too, Lieutenant. Young out.” 

-

Chloe insists on being part of the retrieval team, and then of course Eli wants to go too. Rush tells them it's all fine with him, as long as they help him figure out the shield calculations first. It takes them less than two hours to solve it, and he demands another hour to check and double-check everything.

Young assigns Chloe, Eli, Greer, and Barnes to retrieve the two teams from the silicium planet. 

When it's safe to drop out of FTL, Young sends the retrieval team through the gate while Rush and the remainder of his team keep an eye on everything on the bridge. After the gate closes, Young shows up on the bridge within minutes. 

Rush massages his shoulder restively. The tension in his neck is building up again. If this goes wrong, they're all dead.

“You ready for this?” Young asks impassively. 

Rush glances at him, and nods once. “All or nothing.” 

“Do it.” 

He flicks the switch, and through the window he sees three pinpricks of light on the hull. 

They're still in one piece.

Young gives him a small smile. “Not bad.” 

Rush silently agrees. 

They decide to wait out the four-hour recovery period for the FTL drives, if possible, but barely fifteen minutes have passed before the first enemy ship blinks into existence on their radar. 

“It's less than an hour out.” 

“Does it make a difference for the damage to the drives whether we jump sooner or later?” Young asks. 

He shakes his head. “No.” 

Young palms the button on his radio. “Greer, this is Colonel Young. We've destroyed the trackers on the ship, but the enemy is advancing on us already. We're going to jump.”

_“Copy that, Colonel. We'll find Scott and James and their teams, and then we'll start heading back until we see Destiny's address pop up.”_

“We'll need at least eight hours in FTL with our drives damaged. Tell them to take that into account,” Rush says, although Eli should be aware already. 

“Give us an eight hour window, Master-Sergeant.” 

_“Yes, sir. We'll see you in a couple of hours.”_

“Good luck. Young out.” Putting the radio down, he turns back to Rush. “Alright Rush, get us out of here.” 

It pains Rush to hurt Destiny like this. It's only temporary, he promises her, as he forces her FTL drives past the point where they can go. She jumps, and he programs her to go in a wide spiral that will end at the three-quarter point between where they dropped off the retrieval team, and the silicium planet. 

Everything should be back to normal soon enough. 

-

It's remarkable how well the plan plays out. They come out of FTL in range of four planets. Within thirty minutes of dropping out, someone dials into the gate, and then there are twelve people and four completely loaded kino sleds in the gateroom. 

Their FTL drives are busted, of course, so they'll be stuck here for as long as it takes them to fix the damage, but that's okay. They can make use of the time to fix the shields, as well as replenish their reserves on the planets in range. 

When he finally makes it to his quarters that night, Young feels tired, and victorious, and happy to be alive. 

He both is and isn't surprised when he hears the knock on his door. 

“Come in,” he says, as he finishes removing his boots. 

The door slides open, and Rush steps inside. He slaps the control to close it behind him, and Young feels a low buzz of expectant nerves in his stomach. 

“Rush?” 

The man doesn't make a move to come any closer than where's he standing next to the door. It isn't until that point that Young realizes Rush is shaking. 

He gets up from the couch and walks his sock-clad feet over to him. 

“Stress?” he asks carefully. 

Rush gives him an annoyed glare, and the next thing he knows he's being slammed into the wall, and if this is going to be a habit he needs to start wearing some back armor. And then Rush is kissing him and shivering and moaning into his mouth, and Young goes from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. 

Jesus, yes, he wants this. This feels _good_.

He kisses back savagely when Rush threads his fingers through his hair. Rush tastes like Brody's liquor. He licks the taste into his own mouth as he wraps both arms around Rush's back and drags him closer. Rush is hard, he can feel it where his erection is pressing into his thigh, and before he knows what he's doing Young moves his right hand to touch it over his jeans. Rush makes a desperate little sound against him that goes straight to his cock, and all conscious thought leaves Young for a second.

He is overcome by a need to feel this, to take more, to have Rush right here in front of him, and shit, Rush's hand is scrabbling at his pants and he's letting Rush put his fingers around his dick, and there's no way this is a good idea, but Rush is mouthing at his neck and huffing these fast little breaths against him and he _can't stop_. 

He opens Rush's pants and wraps his hand around him, matching Rush's rhythm stroke for stroke. It's dry and the angle is awkward, but Rush is kissing him again, pulling him closer with a hand in his hair, and he loses himself in the sensations of deft fingers and slick tongue and scruffy beard against his skin. 

They're alive, and he's happy, and right now Rush wants him and he wants Rush, and maybe that's okay. He doesn't want to think about the long term, he's just focusing on Rush against him, touching him, and he finally wants to see him come for real. His own orgasm builds steadily in his lower belly, a coil winding tighter and tighter as Rush pants wetly against his lips.

Rush's hand speeds up, and he is frantically saying, “Yes, yes, fuck, Colonel, _come on_ ,” against his mouth, and the sound of that ragged voice just _strikes_ something in him, and suddenly Young is coming. His orgasm hits him like a bus. He hasn't come in days, hasn't been with anyone in _years_ , and Christ that should make him depressed, but all he feels is sweet release as Rush shakily coaxes him through it. Yeah, God, this is what he needs, this euphoric high, and he rides it out with closed eyes.

His own hand on Rush has stilled, but when he comes back to himself he picks up the pace again. He wants to know, wants to see what Rush looks like when he comes. God, Rush is tense like a taut wire, and it only takes a few quick strokes to set him off. He watches avidly as Rush's face contorts in pleasure and a deep, breathy moan erupts from his throat. _Jesus_. 

He feels Rush's come splatter onto his own softening cock, and there's something really fucking hot about that.

Rush bows his head into the crook of Young's shoulder and groans, and it's such a _Rush_ sound, even though he's never heard it before, that Young's breath hitches with it. 

They stand like that, leaning into each other, while their breathing evens out. Young just has time to think that this is the most intimate they've ever been without trying to make each other bleed, before Rush steps away quietly. They clean up as well as they can with the tiny hand towel Young uses for shaving, and awkwardly tuck themselves away. 

“Do you want—” Young asks, and he isn't even sure what he's going to suggest. 

“No, no, I should get back to my quarters,” Rush interrupts quickly. 

Rush opens the door and disappears through it before Young has time to think of something to say. 


	7. Chapter 7

Rush wakes up, and everything comes back to him.

He groans and throws his arm over his eyes. _Fuck_.

He should not have done that. 

He should not have stopped by Brody's still for a drink. He should not have gone to Colonel Young's quarters. He _definitely_ should not have pushed Young up against the wall and... _fuck_.

This has to stop. The fluttery anxiety had driven him to alcohol last night. He'd hoped it would take the edge off the nerves, but all it had done was dull his sense of self-preservation. By the time he made the decision to go see the Colonel, he was feeling warm and keyed up, and why would it matter to him what it looked like if he went to Young again this soon? It had been a stressful day. 

That jittery glow had morphed when he was inside the room, however. Young was in his long-sleeved black undershirt, wearing inexpertly mended socks, and suddenly Rush had _wanted_ him. His heart rate had rocketed up, the dawning realization sparking an intense internal debate that had only served to confuse him further as his hands shook with the effort to restrain himself from moving closer. He'd attempted to get himself under control, but when Young stepped up to him and did that whole carefully gentle thing, he'd snapped and shoved him into the wall. _That_ was them, he'd thought ferociously, as he pulled Young's mouth down to his for a bruising kiss. They weren't careful, and they sure as fuck weren't gentle.

The release was instantaneous, and it was impossible to hold still in a setting that intimate. He'd felt the tremors, and he heard himself moan into Young's mouth, and perhaps that was the point of no return. 

If he'd thought it through, that would've been the point he'd expected Young to throw a punch. Or perhaps to simply push him away and make some dry comment about drinking more than he could handle. What he could not have predicted was that Young would go along with it. 

The man must've been starved for touch himself, because he needed very little convincing or touching before coming into Rush's hand. He remembers the feelings he got from Young, the lust, the release, the thread of confused gratitude, and that was enough to bring him to the brink himself. 

He groans into the dark room again. 

He should really not have done that. 

-

And lo and behold, he was right. 

The tentative peace they've spent so long building between them is now weighted down by awkwardness. Rush feels like a fucking teenager and he hates it. 

In the mess hall he ignores Young, and eats standing in front of Becker. When he's done, he hands the bowl to the Airman and nearly runs back to do math in his corridor. 

He uses his radio to give Volker and Brody instructions on how to fix the shields, but he refuses to come down in person to help. He's focusing his attention on solving how to incorporate the Lii's FTL technology into Destiny's Ancient systems. 

Even that can't distract him from last night. 

Young radioes him. He ignores the call. And then suddenly Young is standing next to him in the corridor. 

“Jesus Christ, don't do that!” Rush says, after nearly suffering a heart-attack. 

“Then answer my goddamn calls,” Young growls. 

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Fine. What?” 

Young looks painfully uncomfortable, but he's the one who found it necessary to track Rush down and have this fucking conversation in the first place, so Rush lets him wallow in it. 

“About last night,” Young says. He is quiet for a few long seconds. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that.” 

Rush wants to snort and say something Eli-like. 'Yeah, no shit, Sherlock', or even, 'You think?', because he has come to the same conclusion, obviously. But on second thought, he stays perfectly still. He can't deny that part of him is curious to see what exactly has Young so apologetic. He hadn't pegged the man for a homophobe, but he _is_ a product of the American military system, hardly the most open-minded lot. And then there are all the issues of intense distrust and general dislike between him and Young, of course. 

“If you want to file a formal complaint against me, I won't contest it.” 

Oh. Strangely, his first reaction is one of cautious appeasement. Quickly followed by intense exasperation. For fuck's sake, could the man not offer to fall on his own sword for two fucking minutes?

“And how do you figure that? I came into _your_ quarters at night, I—pushed _you_ ,” Rush says, because it is easier and not factually untrue. “I don't remember it being particularly unpleasant for me. What grounds would I have for lodging a complaint?” 

“You were drunk!” Young actually seems upset, and Rush huffs a breath. How lovely it would be if he could use that as an excuse, but he hadn't even finished his second cup. Does he have to remind Young he's bloody Scottish? Young is quiet for a beat, before he says, “You are under some alien influence we don't understand—”

At that, Rush actually snorts. "We _understand_ my condition well enough, Colonel. A handshake a day seems to work perfectly fine." 

Young gives him a puzzled look, and Rush can't help but elaborate, to explain away what happened yesterday.

“Look, I told you I'm not a tactile person. I generally don't touch people this much unless I'm in a relationship with them. I had a bit to drink and I got confused, it could've happened to anyone. It had very little to do with what those aliens did to me.” 

Young looks at him like he desperately wants to believe that. 

“Still, you were drunk, and I did something I...” he swallows thickly and looks away with a frown. “I still don't know what came over me.” 

Rush feels the stirrings of something unpleasant in his mind. He wants this conversation to end. Now. 

“Colonel, it was a mistake. No one got hurt. I think we should both just forget it and go on like nothing happened.” 

Young doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he lets Rush usher him out of the corridor. 

“Answer your radio when I call,” he says finally. 

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” Rush answers, and they part ways. 

-

He curses. 

It was something Young said... _'I still don't know what came over me'_. 

It's been niggling at the back of his mind ever since, and now he knows why. Those fucking Lii aliens – and Rush is seriously starting to contemplate turning Destiny around and shooting their goddamn ship and killing them all – hadn't just communicated with touch. Sometimes their emotions were so strong they practically radiated outward. He remembers feeling emotion that wasn't his own. Remembers recognizing that emotion as alien, because he'd experienced it in the context of that ridiculous white ship with those ridiculous bloody aliens on board. 

If he had experienced it in a different context, he might have accepted those outside emotions as his own. 

And fuck, it's possible he did that to Young last night. 

Rush leans back against the wall. This is not fair. He never asked for this. He didn't agree to this. He doesn't _want_ this. This, being forced to touch or going mental, it's fucking coercion, is what it is. 

And Colonel Young doesn't deserve this either. Sure, they've had their issues, they still do, but Rush doesn't hate him. He remembers that unexpected gush of fondness he'd felt from Young when the Colonel had come to his quarters. He closes his eyes against the wave of sullen guilt that follows. 

He needs some distance. Some time away from Young to get things into perspective again. 

-

Young is annoyed. Skip that, he went past annoyed hours ago, now he's pissed off. 

He hasn't seen Rush since their awkward talk in one of the math corridors, and it has been three days. 

At first it was easy to ignore. Repairs on Destiny and restocking their food and water reserves took up most of everyone's time, and as promised, Rush had kept his radio on. The first two days, Young was actually glad not to see him, not to be reminded of Rush's mouth against his, of his face as orgasm took him. 

But as the third day arrived, as the shield repairs finished and their stores of food grew steadily, Young had to admit he was getting a little worried about Rush. Nothing major, of course, but he remembered what the man got like when the agitation and anxiety started to overwhelm him. When he'd radioed Rush, he hadn't answered. 

Young had decided to focus on his own schedule, but as he went on with his day the slight worry turned into annoyance. And by now, he is well past annoyance. 

He's checked all of Rush's haunts, the man is nowhere to be found. 

“Eli, I'm looking for Rush. Do you have any idea where he went?” 

_“Uh, he said something about the observation deck this morning,”_ Eli says through his radio. 

“That's still off-limits.” 

_“Yeah, but since the shield is fixed, it should be safe.”_

“Okay, thanks, I'll take a look.” 

_“Sure. But Colonel? He seemed kind of on edge this morning. Like, way past normal Rush-levels of on edge.”_

“I got it, Eli.” 

Young sighs.

-

Rush looks like a deer in headlights when Young steps through the door of the observation deck. 

Young can see from there that he's a nervous wreck; his hands are trembling, and a thin layer of sweat makes his skin shine. 

“Rush, what the hell.” 

“What,” Rush says, and he juts his chin out like a defiant child. 

“What are you even doing here?” 

“Working.” Rush crosses his arms over his chest and grabs his elbows. As if that way Young won't notice the shaking. 

“Like you can get any work done, the state you're in,” Young says through gritted teeth. And he is pissed off that Rush is avoiding him, that Rush doesn't understand that he's trying to make this easier for both of them, that Rush would let his mind and body rattle apart rather than accept the help Young is offering freely, and then he's walking up to Rush and pushing into his space. 

Rush stumbles backwards until he hits a wall, and then he hooks his arm around Young's shoulder and pulls him closer as release finds him. The way Rush shivers against him, curls his fingers into his jacket to grab on tighter, the sound he makes deep in his throat when he can't hold back, Young wants... he _wants_ , and he has to fight himself with everything he has to stay quiet and still against Rush. 

“Fuck,” Rush finally breathes out, as he puts some distance between himself and Young again. “I'll never get used to that.” 

Young wants to ask him how it feels, but he's pretty sure Rush will physically attack him if he does. 

“Look,” Young says, after the silence stretches between them. “I know that this is messy and uncomfortable, and I get it if you want to find someone else to do this with.” 

Rush grimaces and looks away with a single head shake, and Young feels something triumphant and jubilant bloom in his chest. He schools his face into a blank expression before he continues. “But you can't keep avoiding this. You keep it pent up until you don't have a way out, and it's not helpful. And it's probably not healthy either.” 

He doesn't say, it's also awkward as hell, because he doesn't think he has to. 

Rush looks up at him. “So what are you saying, Colonel?” 

And Young nearly rolls his eyes, because of course Rush can never make anything easy. 

“Every day. That was our agreement.” 

Rush frowns and angles his head to the side, but he nods. “Fine.” 

All things considered, it goes better than Young had expected. 

-

It takes them ten days in total to repair the shield and the FTL drives, and Young is glad for it. It gives the crew plenty of time to forage for food and catch some sun on the planets. 

Even Rush seems calmer, now that he can order teams to bring this or that mineral to set up some reserves for possible future repairs. It probably helps that their daily touching regimen is reinstated. 

Since Rush doesn't let the tension build up anymore, the release is almost unnoticeable. When they shake hands, Young sometimes finds himself listening for a moan, even a hitched breath, and then he feels ashamed when he realizes that's what he's doing. 

It doesn't help that he knows the touching is confusing Rush as well. That time in the observation deck, he'd felt Rush's hardness against his leg. And when they—he forbids himself from thinking about what happened in his quarters. They agreed to forget about it.

But even still, he can't deny there's something, a tension, growing between them. He should do something. He should put a stop to it. Because there's no way this will end well. 

“We're about to go into FTL,” Eli says from his console, and initiates the countdown. 

The ship heaves and reality shifts sideways for a second, and Young lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

They're in FTL again. 

-

“Sir, do you have a minute?” Scott asks from the door opening. He looks a bit nervous. 

“Come in, Scott.” Young motions for him to take a seat on the other side of his desk. “What is it?” 

“I think I may have missed something. When you asked me about the touching, and the Lii,” Scott starts, as he sits down in the chair across from him. “I hadn't even noticed I couldn't be without touch at first, but I think there's something else.” 

He gives Young an uncomfortable look. “I'm pretty sure I can feel other people's emotions when I touch them.” 

“What?” 

“The other day Chloe was angry because the—well, it doesn't matter, and then for no reason I suddenly got real angry too. Out of nowhere.” 

Young frowns.

“It's happened before, too, little things. I just didn't realize that's what it was until yesterday. I mean, at first I thought it could be nothing, just some random fluke thing. But the Lii communicated with emotions, and since they're the whole reason Rush and I are like this now...” 

“You're certain?” 

“Yes, sir. I've spent the entire morning making sure it wasn't a coincidence. I could prove it to you right now, if you want.” 

“That's not necessary,” Young says dryly. He's quite sure Scott would be shocked if he felt the dark anger coursing through him at the moment. 

Because there isn't a doubt in his mind that Rush knows. That Rush has secretly been taking stock of Young's feelings every time they touched. And Jesus, is that why Rush had all but assaulted him in his quarters? Because he knew Young would be up for it? Because he knew Young was desperate enough to go along with it?

Goddamn that man.

And it's not even that Rush has been invading his privacy in a very personal way. Well, actually, it's that _too_ , but it's not the main reason he's pissed. They had a deal. The deal was that Rush wouldn't lie anymore. And although it's a relatively small lie compared to some of his others... he thought they were past all that. Not only did Rush not trust him with this, but in doing so Rush violated his privacy, and his trust as well. 

“Can I let Chloe know, sir? It doesn't feel right not telling her.” 

Young rubs a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, you should go do that, Lieutenant.” 

“Thanks. And I'm sorry it took me so long to figure this out.” He sounds genuinely sorry. 

Young waves his hand to let him know it's alright. Scott is a good person. He's kind, and naïve, and empathetic; that's exactly what he likes about the kid. If those qualities made him blind to this, he can't really blame Scott. 

“Colonel?” Scott says carefully. “It doesn't have to mean it's the same for Rush.” 

Ah, maybe not so naïve after all. 

“Can you honestly tell me you believe that?” 

Scott gives him an uncomfortable shrug. “Not really, but you know, it's a possibility.” 

“Thanks, Scott.” 

“Of course, sir. Goodnight.” 

As Scott makes his way back down the corridor, Young contemplates going over to Rush's quarters. He wants to confront him, but it's too early for their daily meet-up. Rush is still roaming around the ship doing God knows what. 

Shit, he's really pissed off. 

Young sighs and looks back at his desk. Maybe he should try to calm down first. He'll finish his paperwork and wait for Rush to stop by later tonight. 

-

It's been nearly two hours since Scott came to him, and his anger has used that time to morph into a chimera-like creature that is half outrage and half disappointed betrayal. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, because in the end, can he really blame Rush for being Rush? 

But it does, it bothers him, and he wants to address it. Maybe they can handle this in a constructive way and be normal, healthy adults about it for a change. Maybe he just wants to smack Rush and make out with him. He hasn't decided yet. 

He hears footsteps in the hallway and gets up to open the door before Rush even knocks. Rush looks a bit surprised, but steps inside easily enough. 

“Evening, Colonel,” he says casually. 

Young doesn't reply, and Rush frowns at him before holding out his hand. 

For a second Young hesitates, but then he grabs hold of Rush's hand. He can feel emotions. Let him feel this. He focuses all his anger and betrayal at Rush, and he feels a stab of spiteful victory when Rush jerks his hand back reflexively. 

He looks down at his palm, and then back up to Young. 

“Is something wrong?” 

The telltale creaking sounds and the temporary blurriness let them know they've dropped out of FTL. 

_“Colonel Young, we just dropped out of FTL. It seems there's an inhabited planet within range. We have fifty-nine hours on the clock.”_

Young irritably grabs his radio and presses the button with more force than necessary. “Copy that, Brody. I'll be on the bridge in ten minutes.” 

“We need to talk,” he snaps to Rush. 

“Now?” 

Young huffs an annoyed sigh. “No, I guess we have a planet to explore right now.” 

“Fascinating as that sounds, I'm right on the brink of a breakthrough concerning the Lii FTL technology,” Rush says haughtily. 

“Fascinating as _that_ sounds, you're coming to the planet,” Young shoots back. 

Rush looks like he wants to smirk, and Young isn't sure whether he's just been played or whether Rush is amused by his somewhat childish retort. Both options are aggravating enough that he feels justified in leaving the conversation. 

Of course Rush just follows right behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

“This is so freaking surreal,” Greer says to Scott. He has lowered his rifle, but he's holding it as if any moment they're about to be attacked. 

Rush silently agrees. They're being led down what appears to be the main street of a major city. Tall buildings rise as high as the skyscrapers in New York, and lights twinkle everywhere. Huge billboards with colorful advertisements line the streets, and there is a continuous stream of noise; music and commercials and people talking and yelling. His nostrils are assaulted by a different smell with every step; perfume, greasy food, burning gasoline, candy floss... After the rather Spartan interior of Destiny, it is all somewhat overwhelming. 

People, or at least, people-like beings, are lining the streets, cheering and waving at them. Scott laughs, and a whole lot of girls in the crowd swoon. “Is it just me, or does this place kinda look like Hong Kong?” 

Rush ignores their banter and turns to Young. “You trust these people?” 

“Of course not,” Young shoots him a glance before returning his attention to the indigenous populution. “We don't even know what they are. Hell, we only understand about a third of what they say.” 

It appears he's wrapped up all that betrayed anger and stowed it away for the moment. Rush actually considers it a somewhat impressive feat. It's still gnawing at him, however. What exactly happened to upset Young to that extent? His threatening 'we need to talk' made it quite clear it has to do with him. And that Young still intends to address it. 

“Yes, exactly, you know who used a similar Ancient dialect?” 

Young looks at him levelly. “No, who?” 

Rush has to fight to keep in an exasperated sigh. Instead, he brusquely drags his hand through his hair. “Which hostile aliens have we been encountering for the past weeks? The 'trespassing' messages? You don't think this planet and those ships have any connection to each other?” 

Young has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Please tell me you used to be better at this sarcasm thing.” 

The caravan stops, and the four of them are led into a tall building. 

Rush narrows his eyes at him. “You'd better hope we're not about to be ritualistically sacrificed.” 

“I always do, Rush,” Young answers dryly, before he steps through the inner doors. 

-

After the strange, but very welcoming walk from the stargate to the building, things get kind of boring. They're ushered into a room that looks like its main purpose is hosting board meetings, get served a glass of something resembling cold coffee and a plate of assorted pastries, and spend the next three hours talking. Or, Young and Rush talk to the alien leaders, and he and Scott are left sitting on their hands. 

The pastries are delicious, though. Greer finishes his entire plate within ten minutes. A chubby girl with a shy smile places another plate in front of him, and he grins at her gratefully as he stuffs one of the pastries into his mouth whole. Scott is sitting next to him, trying to keep a straight face. 

Rush does most of the talking, since he's the only one of them who is fluent in Ancient. The aliens speak in some sort of dialect. It makes communication difficult but not impossible. Rush seems to switch at random between trying to speak to them on his own and translating to and for Young. 

Rush is not good at being a team player, that much is clear. But it looks like he's trying, at least. Greer thinks it counts as progress. 

As far as he can tell, these people are distantly related to the Ancients, but they have never mastered the stargate technology. That's why, when the gate dialed in, everyone assembled to meet the strangers who knew how to control the artifact they had started to assume was no longer in working order. 

Apparently the ships that have been tracking and attacking Destiny are 'protecting' them. Making sure no one comes in, and no one goes out. The people hope understanding how to use the stargates will give them more freedom from these _protectors_ , who to Greer sound like creepy, controlling, stalker boyfriends. 

Rush and Young discuss whether or not to teach these people about gate travel. 

Eventually, Rush tells them they'll trade the gate remote and instructions on its use for supplies they need aboard their ship, but that they need to rest first. Maybe something goes wrong in the translations, or maybe there is another reason, but the aliens offer them to stay the night in what is apparently the best hotel in the city. 

Young agrees, and while Rush tells the aliens, Young orders Greer and Scott to make the radio call back to Destiny when they're done here. 

They do. It takes them about fifteen minutes to jog back to the gate, dial Destiny, and radio in. After that, they're escorted to their very own penthouse suite in this alien version of the Bellagio. 

“This is weird,” Greer mumbles to Scott. 

Scott just looks excited. “Man, I hope they have real showers.” 

-

They're in a penthouse. 

They're on the other side of the universe, and they're in a penthouse suite of a hotel overlooking a city that really does resemble Hong Kong quite a lot. It's jarring, all this luxury and comfort, after spending so long on Destiny. 

Young exits the bathroom in something incredibly similar to an Earth bathrobe. It looks thick and fluffy, and Rush wants to touch it, feel the plush fabric against his skin. 

He magnanimously allowed Young to use the shower first, but now he wants to finally get _clean_. The mist showers from Destiny perform their function, but it's nothing like an actual shower. He constantly feels grimy and dirty on the ship, with his single change of clothes and his blunt razor. 

He retreats into the bathroom without another word. He takes a long, hot shower, and then he shaves, and it's just so _nice_ to be clean and smooth again. He smells like minty lilacs, and it's somewhat odd, but it's so bloody nice. When he slips into the thick bathrobe that hangs on the door, it's every bit as comfortable as he'd hoped. God, he hasn't felt this relaxed in years. 

Now if only Colonel Young wasn't on the other side of that door. 

Eventually, the steam from the shower turns cold and clammy, and he is forced to step back into the main suite. Young has found the mini-bar, and is drinking a dark green liquid from a tumbler as he stares pensively out of the panoramic window. 

The view of the city is breathtaking, Rush has to admit that. 

“Is that any good?” he asks, motioning at Young's glass. 

Young holds up his glass and studies the drink. “Bit like cognac with rosemary mixed in. Not bad.” 

Rush shrugs and pours himself the same. The herbal taste takes some getting used to, but it goes down rather smoothly. He walks up to Young and looks down over the city. The thick cream carpet feels warm and luscious under his bare feet. 

“So, you really want to teach these people how to use the stargates?” he asks finally. 

Young turns to him. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Young is quiet for a long moment, before he speaks. “If I understand this correctly, those aliens in the ships were the first and only extraterrestrial contact these people have had before meeting us. Now we stumbled upon this planet by accident, and apparently no one has ever managed to do that. And it just so happens that we have the ability to teach them about stargate travel.” 

He gives Young an appraising look. “Are you saying it's meant to be?” Bit ephemeral for Young, in Rush's opinion. 

Young frowns. “Maybe. Something like that.” He takes another sip of his drink. “I just want to help these people. It's not like it'll cost us anything, and we can probably trade the information for a whole lot of supplies we need back on Destiny.” 

“I wouldn't say no to one of these bathrobes.” 

Young lets out an amused huff. “Or some of those pastries they had earlier.” 

“Do you suppose they have room service?” 

Young laughs, and it truly is a nice sound, Rush thinks. Even if he finds himself listening for the anger behind behind it. 

They stand in silence, drinking their liquor, until Rush can no longer ignore the building tension. He knows Young is upset with him, and perhaps he even knows why, and for some reason he can't simply shrug it off and go to sleep. 

“Look, Colonel—” 

“You lied,” Young says. His voice is devoid of emotion, his face is blank. Rush feels the hairs on his neck stand up. This is Young at his most dangerous. 

He stays still, waits. Experience has taught him that challenging or placating Young is not a good idea in these situations. 

“What, you're not even going to deny it?” 

Rush blinks. “It wasn't a very big lie.” And the moment it's out of his mouth he knows it was the wrong thing to say. 

“Jesus, Rush! What the hell is wrong with you?” Young plunks his empty glass down on the table and Rush is surprised it doesn't crack. “I know you're a goddamn nutcase, but what the actual fuck?” 

Rush bristles. How dare Young talk to him like that when he has _no clue_ what he's been going through. “You don't know what you're talking about! You can't—”

“Oh, _I_ don't know what I'm talking about?!” Young shouts through him. “Who do you think has been there every day, making sure you don't fall apart because you're too stubborn or too proud to just accept help like a normal person! Do you even realize what a messed up invasion of privacy this is?” 

Rush looks at the floor. He can't defend himself against this, not without revealing more than he's comfortable with. 

“Why, Rush? Why didn't you just tell me, instead of letting me find out some other way?” Young still looks angry, but his voice is plaintive, and Rush can't stand this any longer. 

Because it's not fucking fair that he has to ask for these favors in the first place while Young gets to be the long-suffering knight in shining armor. Because it made him feel better to glean a few of Young's private emotions when he was forced to experience dry goddamn orgasms in front of the man. Because telling him might mean not getting to touch anymore. 

He can't say any of that out loud, and he wants this to be over. He wants out of this conversation, out of this fight, because it's making him nervous. And when he gets stressed he needs to touch, and that's just not fucking _fair_. 

He grabs the front of Young's robe and kisses him roughly. He projects every single drop of lust and want he's ever felt for the Colonel outward, into him, and he licks and bites at his mouth with near desperation until Young finally responds to him, returns the kiss. Young's arms come up and wrap around him, and Rush can't help but moan deeply as Young's feelings of anger-sad-hopeless fade to the background, and the arousal grows in urgency. 

Rush pulls Young with him to the bed, and somewhere in the back of his head there's a little voice panicking about what he's about to do. He ignores it and shoves at Young's robe, and then he's mouthing at his neck, his chest, his stomach, as Young lies back and winds his fingers through Rush's hair with a breathy groan. The sound reverberates in his chest, makes a shiver surge down his spine, and he keenly bites Young's right nipple before lapping away the pain with his tongue. He's rewarded with a choked noise that spurs him on further, and he runs his hands over Young's chest before deftly untying the cord around his middle. 

Young is naked beneath the bathrobe, and when Rush opens it he is faced with the evidence of Young's arousal. He isn't consciously aware he's going to do it until he does, but when he flicks out his tongue to taste the wetness at Young's cock, it feels as if the shocked gasp he hears might be his own. He looks up and meets Young's wide eyes, riveted on him, and he experimentally laps his tongue across the edge where the head meets the shaft without breaking eye contact. Young curses and lets his head fall back, and Rush presses the palm of his hand against his own prick for a few beats, not even sure whether he's seeking stimulation or respite. 

Fuck, he hadn't expected to be so affected by this. But then, perhaps that _want_ that makes his balls throb is Young's, now. He licks a long stripe up the entire length before closing his lips around Young's dick, sucking and rubbing his tongue over the silky skin of his shaft and the spongy soft flesh of his head. He relishes Young's sharp intake of breath and the low 'mmm' sound he makes. The jumble of Young's emotions is headed by an overwhelming sense of astonished pleasure that makes Rush twitch. 

He takes his mouth off Colonel Young's erection, instead stroking it lightly with his hand. He licks and kisses at Young's testicles, and draws first the one, and then the other into his mouth as his tongue laps at them in insistent patterns. Young groans and his hips stutter off the bed, and Rush smirks with a perversely content sense of satisfaction. His next course of action crystallizes in his mind's eye with sinful clarity. Fuck, he has no guarantee Young won't knock his teeth out for what he's about to do. For all of this, really. He draws back momentarily to wet his index finger with a thick coat of saliva and then presses it inside Young as he sucks one of his balls into his mouth again. 

“Fuck, _Rush_!” Young says, and he sounds scandalized, and wrecked, _and he's making no move to stop him_. Fuck. 

Rush moves in and out of Young, attempting to keep his movements unhurried, as he licks his way up to the tip of his cock again. His other hand he splays out over Young's abdomen, to keep him grounded, as well as to keep him from bucking up unexpectedly. Without further warning, he takes Young into his mouth as deep as he can go, while simultaneously stimulating his prostate from the inside.

“Oh, Jesus,” he hears Young groan raggedly, and it sounds fucking _obscene_ , and God, he can't remember the last time he was this hard. 

He sets up a fast rhythm, stimulating Young's insides on every down stroke, and it isn't long before Young tenses up and cries out. A hard wave of aroused pleasure rocks through Rush and he squeezes his eyes shut tight to hold himself together. He thinks about spitting, but decides against it in a split second. When he swallows around Young's cock he hears a muffled moan, and realizes that was what he wanted. Christ, what a fucking mess.

He extricates himself with little fuss, and then all of a sudden he has no idea what to do. He's on the edge of desperation, his prick so hard with need he's aching for release, but he doesn't dare make another move. 

“C'mere,” Young says from where's he's lying bonelessly on the bed. His hands help position Rush until he's straddling Young's abdomen, shiny wet cockhead peeking out from where his bathrobe is flaring open, and he can't believe how much he needs this. Young's hands are everywhere, on his hips, on his chest, pushing away the robe that's still cinched around his waist. It's magnificent, his touch strong but unexpectedly gentle, and it's everything Rush wants right now. Young traces the fingers of one hand loosely over his erection, while he uses the other hand to pull Rush's face down to his own. 

He gives Rush one of the sloppiest kisses he's ever had, and Rush almost comes right then. Young lets go of him and gives him a sated smile that makes him look blissful and alluring, two adjectives he'd never expected to apply to the Colonel. 

“I wanna see you do it,” Young says breathlessly, as he moves both his hands down to massage at Rush's thighs. Rush shakes with want as he closes his right hand around himself. His left he places on Young's solar plexus, for balance and leverage. Its sturdiness and warmth grounds him as he slides his hand over his cock in quick strokes.

Jesus, he's getting himself off on top of Young, and he's not even gonna last thirty seconds. 

It takes him longer than it should to realize Young is calling his name, and he is not proud of the way his voice stutters when he says “Colonel?” 

“Look at me,” Young asks, and Rush does, and it's excruciatingly intimate to look into someone's eyes, into _Young's_ eyes as he's jerking himself off, and then he's coming—he's coming all over Young's stomach and chest, and fuck fuck _fuck_ , he knows he's babbling but it feels so good, the release of his orgasm mingling with the spike of astonished lust coming off Young, and it's fucking _finally_ , and he can't stop. 

At last, when his climax settles and the exhaustion sets in, Rush lets himself fall onto the wide bed. Foregoing conscious thought, he rolls up against Young, and with the sleeve of his robe he wipes his come off Young's abdomen. 

“I'm gonna need another shower.”

“Hm hmm,” Rush answers drowsily. 

“Tomorrow,” Young says with a yawn, but Rush is already asleep. 

-

When he wakes up, Young is already in the shower. 

He wonders if what he did would count as rape back on Earth, and nearly throws up. 

As far as mornings-after go, it's not one of his best. 

-

Young rinses his hair out under the hot spray of the shower. 

He is conflicted. On the one hand, he is happy. He's happy because he had some really good sex yesterday, and his hormones are probably all over the place. On the other hand, he just had sex with Rush. And it's not some sort of internalized homophobia that makes him ambivalent about that, it's purely that he had sex with Rush. Nothing, nothing ever in his life has been made easier by applying Doctor Nicholas Rush to it. 

And take one look at his love-life over the past few years; his track record is so far from great he should probably just pack up and say goodbye to the entire idea of ever having a healthy relationship at all. Emily and he were a mess from the get-go, and TJ...Honestly, he thinks TJ is making a more responsible choice in partners with Varro. And sure, the guy is alright, but he was Kiva's second in command in the Lucian Alliance for God knows how long. That's not something a well-adjusted person does. 

But maybe he's overreacting, he thinks, as he lathers shampoo in his hair. So they've had some semi-angry sex once (twice). That doesn't mean they're in a relationship. Or that they will ever want to be. It's Rush. If there's anyone he can't imagine in a normal, committed relationship, it's him. 

Oh God, if he and Rush end up together it's going to be a goddamn shitstorm. 

He washes his hair for the third time before he realizes what he's doing. Christ, he's really going to miss this shower when they get back aboard Destiny. 

When he steps into the room again, Rush is already dressed. He looks down at his ragged jeans and his continually dirty shirts, and back up to Young. “Don't forget to negotiate new clothes.” 

Young dries his hair with the thick, high-quality towel. “Morning to you, too.” 

“Yeah,” Rush says. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, and Young takes pity on him. 

“Want to just pretend last night didn't happen?” 

“Could we?” 

That startles a laugh out of Young, because it's both so Rush, and somehow uncharacteristically polite. “I will, if you will.” 

Rush gives him a relieved look at that. “Deal.”

And Young knows they still haven't worked anything out. Rush hasn't given him any satisfactory explanation as to why he lied _again_ , after everything they've been through. 

But for now, this is easier. 

-

The people on the planet are willing to trade everything they ask for in exchange for one of their stargate remotes. Clothes, shoes, food, medical supplies, toiletries, luxury items. They even present Young with a data device that weighs forty pounds and has all their most treasured books, movies, and musical pieces on it. People on Destiny will go nuts for that. You can only read Desperation so many times before you start rooting for the psychotic sheriff. 

Rush asks for some very specific electronic parts, heavy duty stuff, and they move heaven and earth to deliver it to him within four hours. Young almost feels guilty, since they have a whole crate full of stargate remotes back on board Destiny. But the crew need this, and these people are gaining a whole lot more than just a new outfit and a few new songs on their iPod. They're gaining freedom. 

He calls some of the crew down from Destiny to help with all the goods they've traded, and once again, the masses come out to cheer for the unknown travelers. He sees Dunning and Barnes wave uncomfortably at the frenetic crowd, before each pushing a whole cart of shoes through the gate. 

Rush has been in deep talks with one of the leaders of the people, an older gentleman in a lavender dress, and eventually they touch ring fingers – their version of shaking hands. 

“What did you just negotiate?” he asks Rush. 

Rush shoots him a quick glance before looking over at the comings and goings near the gate. “Their medical database. It sounds like they might have a cure for ALS. Or at least something very similar to it.” 

And he doesn't know what he was expecting, but that wasn't it. Right that second, he wants to kiss Rush so hard his teeth hurt. Instead he touches his fingertips to the inside of Rush's wrist, and says, “Thanks.” If Rush can feel his emotions, he'll know how much this means to him. 

Rush shrugs him off and steps to the side. “We need a medic on board,” he says, indignation tinting his voice. 

Young huffs an amused breath and lets it go. “Yes, we do.” 

-

It's hard to pinpoint when exactly everything falls apart. One minute Colonel Young is sending the last of the crew through the gate with the final supplies, the next minute the streets are overrun by alien soldiers that look nothing like humans, and he and Young are running for their lives. 

Young suddenly yanks him into an alley and they crouch behind a container. Thirty seconds later two of the alien soldiers march past, heavy weapons drawn. 

In the distance, Rush hears shots, and he hopes it's the planet people finally fighting back against their oppressors. It only occurs to him then that Young never negotiated any weapons. Fuck. Not that weapons would have done them much good now, not against an army of these aliens, but it's the principle of the thing.

“We need to get back to the gate,” Rush whispers urgently. Thank God they hadn't given their gate remote to the planet people yet. He still has it safely pressed against his chest. 

“What about these people?” Young says. “We can't just leave when they're in the middle of an alien invasion!” 

“Have you lost your mind? Yes, we _absolutely_ can! What are the two of us going to do against an entire army?” 

Young gives him a troubled frown. 

Suddenly they hear a hushed voice from above them. A middle-aged woman is hanging from a window and trying to get their attention. She motions for them to climb through one of the lower level windows, and Rush looks at Young. He hears marching footsteps in the distance, getting closer fast, and Young nods at him to go. 

Once they're inside, the woman leads them deeper into the building and ushers them into a room. 

The door shuts behind them and he looks around. There are no windows, nor any other doors. Rush almost isn't even surprised when he hears the click of a weapon being drawn. They turn around simultaneously, and he feels a surge of warmth and annoyance when he realizes Young has maneuvered his own body in front of Rush. Really, it would be sweet if Young didn't offer himself up to die every other day. 

He impatiently nudges Young to the side, until he can make eye contact with the woman holding them hostage. 

_'Why are you doing this?'_ he asks in his imperfect version of their dialect. 

The hand holding the weapon is trembling, but the look in her eyes betrays a steely determination. When she finally talks, her voice is steady and fast. 

_'You must understand,_ ' she says. And then she tells him about the 'protectors', and the sacrifices they expect every sun circle. The leaders of the planet, most of them are corrupt, and they'll never let the people use the stargate. They'll ask ridiculous sums of money to ensure only a select few can travel through it, and her son is up to be sacrificed next sun turn, and she needs to _do_ something. 

Rush isn't sure if he understands it all, and he can't be sure she's telling the truth. Young catches his eye with a raised eyebrow, and Rush translates what she told him. 

Young seems perturbed. “Do you believe her?” 

Rush shrugs slightly. “I have no idea. Does it matter?” 

He can see Young gearing up for another one of his we-have-to-save-these-people speeches, and pre-emptively cuts him short. “We need to get back to the gate.”

The woman points her weapon at Rush, and tells him to give her the 'calling device'. He snaps at her that she will get the remote after he and Young have dialed the gate back to Destiny, and not a minute before that. If she wants to know how the remote works, she's going to have to keep them alive. 

She thinks about it for a moment, and then walks out of the room and locks the door behind her. 

“That looked like it went well,” Young says with a nonplussed expression. 

“Well, she didn't shoot us.” 

“I'm starting to think it's not even a weapon. If you were a tyrannical and corrupt government, would you allow commoners who are forced to sacrifice their children firearms? Either her story is bull, or she's threatening us with a blender.” 

“Yes, that, or she heard her son was next in line to be sacrificed and she did everything she could to get a hold of a weapon to protect him,” Rush says. 

Young sighs. He looks around the room, and his eyes catch on something on the ceiling. “Help me stack those boxes. If that's an air vent we can use it to get out of here.” 

Rush almost laughs. Fantastic, they're going to escape through a bloody air vent. 

-

“Where are they?” 

Eli shrugs. “Maybe some last-minute negotiations? Maybe they're explaining how the remote works and the people are _really_ slow learners?” 

“Something's wrong, dial the gate,” Greer says. He looks tense.

“Whoa, wait! If something went wrong down there, is it really such a great idea to go through the gate right now?” Volker asks. Greer shoots him a look that Eli can't interpret, and Volker looks away. 

“We'll send a kino through, make sure everything is okay,” Eli suggests. 

As it turns out, everything is not okay. Not even kind of. Armored aliens that look like really tall bipedal lizards are patrolling around the gate. They're carrying weapons, and there are smears of blood on the ground near the gate. That's all they see, before the kino is shot out of the air. 

“Not good,” Eli says, hastily shutting down the gate connection. “Not good, not good. Shit, what do we do?” He sincerely hopes none of that blood belongs to Rush or Young. 

Matt glances at him, and then at Greer. He looks at the gate with a frown. 

“If you go through there, they'll shoot you on sight,” Eli says. 

“What about the shuttle?” Greer asks. “It's fixed, right?” 

Eli checks his console. “Yeah, but it'll take more than eight hours to get to the planet.” 

“And if they have eyes on the sky they can easily shoot you down when you enter the atmosphere.” Volker looks worried. 

“Nah, not with this guy at the wheel,” Greer says as he claps his hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“We've got to at least try.” Scott's mouth has that determined set to it, and Eli knows this is going to happen. 

-

They're running again, from alley to alley, finding cover under miscellaneous detritus and the lengthening evening shadows. They're trying to get to the gate, but it seems the closer they get, the tighter the patrols become. 

The aliens remind him of alligators. Their dead eyes give him the chills. Sometimes Young nudges his shoulder, or grabs his arm, and Rush doesn't know whether Young realizes that those touches are helping him stay sane at the moment. 

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. They're fucked, and he's not sure how they're going to make it out of here. 

The truth is that even if they can reach the stargate, which seems less likely with every hour that passes, there is no way in hell they can dial and enter the gate before being shot. And then that would leave Destiny wide open to an internal attack by these aliens. He knows Young probably needs to feel like he's carrying out a plan to stay calm, but at some point they'll have to acknowledge that this is not the way they're going to get home. 

He pulls on Young's sleeve to get his attention. They're crouched behind a large double mattress about three streets away from the gate. 

This is never going to work, he wants to say. 

“What are we doing?” he whispers quietly. The gunfire and the screaming have died down. Now the sounds they hear are limited to the wind, the occasional marching footsteps, and the threatening clicks and growls the aliens use to communicate with one another. 

“I'm thinking,” Young replies. Rush gives him a disbelieving look, and Young elbows him in the side. Rush huffs. It's almost like being friends. 

“We'll need a distraction if we want to get near the gate. Maybe a few explosions, if we can rig something. At the very least some big fires.” Young's voice is soft and at the exact same frequency as the wind howling through the alley. An empty plastic cup clatters by on the street to their right, pushed forward by a gust of wind.

“And how are we going to do that?” 

“That's why I was thinking.” Young touches the mattress in front of them and eyes it speculatively. “It's dry enough, we could burn this.” 

Rush looks past Young to the rest of the alley. “If we drag it closer to that pile of garbage...” 

Young grins at him, and Rush has to actively suppress the urge to grin back. “I have a lighter,” he says instead.


	9. Chapter 9

It's starting to catch fire now, and they have to move. It won't be long until the smoke starts pluming and the alligator aliens will come to investigate. 

“Rush!” Young hisses at him, and motions at him to follow. They run to the other side of the street, glad for the falling darkness that conceals them at least partially. Young darts into another alley, and stops so suddenly Rush almost bumps into his back. 

It all happens in a flash. The aliens raise their weapons in unison and fire at Young. Their rifles shoot a type of energy rather than bullets, and both rays hit Young squarely in the chest. “Fuck!” Rush breathes out as Young collapses against him. Holding the Colonel against him with one arm, Rush's fingers flick open Young's holster and find his sidearm. He shoots twice, quickly, and the aliens go down. Head shots. 

Rush curses again. They need to get out of here. Those shots will attract every alien in the vicinity. A quick check behind him lets him know the garbage pile fire is really starting to build now. 

“Colonel, can you walk? We need to go!” 

Young's head lolls against his shoulder limply, and Rush hurriedly takes his pulse. Fast and thready. That can't be good. Instead of Young's usual, easily definable emotions, all Rush gets from him is a heavy, blended swirl of confused discomfort. “Rush?” Young mumbles softly, and there's blood on his teeth. _Fuck_. 

He takes Young's arm and heaves it over his shoulder. “Yeah, come on. We have to move.” 

He's dragging Young along, and they're not going to make it, they're too slow, when suddenly an explosion rocks the entire row of buildings they're on. 

_“Colonel Young, come in!”_ It's Greer's voice that crackles through Young's radio, and Rush scrabbles desperately to grab it, their unexpected and solitary lifeline. 

“Greer, this is Rush! The explosion, was that you?” 

_“Yes, we're about three blocks out from the gate. Is the Colonel with you?”_

“They shot him! He's hurt!” 

_“Tell us where you are!”_

And before he can answer Rush hears Scott's voice nearby yelling “Fire in the hole!” and then another explosion rains dust and pieces of rubble on them. He throws up his hand to shield their faces, but he still feels tiny pinpricks sting into his skin. He lowers his arm when it's over, before coughing into the gray smoke. 

“Rush!” 

He turns his head, and in the darkness and the dust settling around them, he sees two silhouettes he recognizes. 

-

He can't move. He can't move, and he can't speak, and he can hardly make out what is happening around him. 

He's being carried somewhere, and he recognizes Scott in front of him and Greer at his side. His other arm is supported by Rush, and he hears him yell “I lost the gate remote!”. His voice sounds strained. He's not sure if Rush is panicking. Possibly. 

“Doesn't matter,” he hears Greer say from his other side, and he grays out for a moment. “...shuttle!” 

“We're almost there!” Scott shouts, and points in a direction Young can't make out. Everything is blurry, and his mouth tastes like blood. Matt is behind them now. He is shooting. A lot. 

Young wills himself to come back, to be present. He can't leave them like this. Not right now. He can't...

...he wakes up in the shuttle. 

Greer is next to him before he has even said anything. “Hey, sir, how're you feeling?” 

“Like crap,” he croaks out, and he hears Greer chuckle. 

“Yeah, getting shot by two freaky lizard aliens will do that to you.” 

“Rush?” he asks. 

“He's fine. He conked out about an hour ago.” Greer nods at where Rush sits sagged against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. “If I didn't know better, sir, I'd think he was worried about you.” 

Young makes a questioning frown. 

“He kept checking your heartbeat every fifteen minutes, like clockwork, until he finally fell asleep.” 

Young looks over at Rush again. He looks terrible. Gray dust has matted his hair, and his face is covered in it as well, except for where tiny dots of blood speckle through it. The attack must've rattled him, if he was anxious enough to need touch to that extent. Deep in his chest, he feels that coil of fondness wind a little bit tighter around his insides. 

He's known Rush for a while now, so it's not like he expected to be left behind when he was shot. He's seen Rush risk himself enough to believe his first instinct is always to save as many lives as possible, to minimize the losses. But still, knowing that Rush had stayed with him even when it was not the rational thing to do, that Rush had helped him get back to the shuttle... this feeling reminds him of how he'd felt when Rush had grabbed his hand on the hull of Destiny, just as he was about to drift into space. Only this is stronger, so much stronger. 

Suddenly that coil inside him springs loose, and emotion and realization wash over him. Oh, God. No way. Rush. Jesus Christ. _Rush_. That's... he can't- 

He feels like he can't breathe. 

He jerks his gaze away from Rush's sleeping form when Scott says, “We'll reach the Destiny in twenty minutes, sir.” 

“Right,” he says shakily. “I should probably use that time to get vertical again.”

Greer helps him up, and yeah, there's definitely a burn or something on his chest. It hurts like hell. 

-

“You got lucky,” TJ says, as she puts the finishing touches on the bandage on his chest. She eyes the suck mark on his neck from beneath her lashes again, and hates herself a little bit because she feels a sharp stab of hurt at the sight. Even though they have been over for more than a year, even though she's been with Varro for months now, a part of her still wants him. 

He either doesn't hear her double entendre, or he chooses to ignore it. 

“My guess is their guns were meant to stun, not to kill. But you got hit by two at the same time. Your heart could've stopped.” She steps over to her medicine cabinet and scoops a few ounces of the powdered nettle leaves in a jar. “Put a few spoons of this in your tea for the next couple of weeks. It seems to speed up the healing process for burns.” 

He thanks her as he puts his shirt back on. 

“TJ,” he says. “Rush talked one of the planet leaders into handing us their medical library. He said they had a cure for something that sounded very similar to ALS.” 

And suddenly she can't breathe. It's not something she lets herself think about often, but it never really leaves her consciousness. Knowing she's going to whither away and die, it's been weighing on her mind. And now there might be a cure... She blinks away a tear that's threatening to spill. 

“Ah, thank you, sir.” And she wishes she could hug him, wishes it would be okay to ask him for the comfort she so desperately craves right now, but she can't. They can't. 

He gives her a small smile, and if that's everything she can have, she'll take it. “Believe me, I wish I could take credit here, but it was all Rush.” 

Her lips quirk up in answer. “I'll be sure to thank him too, then.” 

-

It's late, and Young feels like he hasn't slept in years, but when he hears the knock on his door he goes to open it. He's not even surprised to find it's Rush. As he steps aside and lets him enter, a live wire of nervous expectation knots itself around his stomach. 

“Couldn't sleep?” he asks, because it's something to say. 

Rush looks better, now that he's washed the dusty grime off. The tiny wounds on his face, the ones Young has seen on himself in the mirror as well, are hardly visible in this light. 

“Yeah,” Rush answers, as he rubs at his neck. It's a familiar sight. Young doubts it ever has the intended effect. 

They stand in silence for long moments, until Young decides to step forward. He can tell what Rush wants, why he's here, from the way he angles his body towards Young's. From the way he avoids making eye contact and twists his mouth. From the way he refuses to speak even though he's already made the effort to come here. 

He wants it, too. Hasn't stopped thinking about it since that moment of clarity in the shuttle.

He brushes Rush's hair from his face and cups his jaw. Rush doesn't look at him, but he allows his face to be angled into a light kiss. Young licks into his mouth slowly, enjoying the feel of Rush's skin under his fingertips, Rush's lips pliant and warm against his own. Then Rush's hands come up to tighten around his shoulders in an embrace, and for a moment Young isn't sure what it is they're doing. It's soft, and tender, and slow, and none of the things they usually are. He's a bit surprised to find out how much he actually wants this. After a short while, Rush drags his face away. It looks like it takes him great effort.

“We can't—I didn't think I—” Rush starts, and Young pulls him back in. What does it matter whether they do this twice or thrice? He presses his lips against Rush's mouth, and he loves that the stubble is back, short and scratchy where it rubs into his skin. He hadn't expected he'd ever miss something like that. 

He leads Rush to the couch and sits him down. Rush is wearing one of the new shirts they brought on board, and Young moves to straddle him, his thighs on the outside of Rush's. He carefully opens the buttons from top to bottom. Rush weakly tries to bat his hands away, saying “Colonel, you don't want to do this.” But Young just gives him a wry smirk and drags the shirt off over his shoulders and arms. Then he shifts down to suck kisses into Rush's skin. He wants to do everything, taste him, mark him, but he keeps his pace deliberately slow. It's not just a fevered need he wants to fulfill this time, it's something different. Something more, maybe. It's just the two of them, intimate and awkward and _real_. 

He glides his hands all over Rush's chest, and he enjoys every little squirm, every hitch of breath. “Colonel,” he murmurs. “I actually came here to talk.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Young asks, between kissing his collarbone and sucking on his already pebbled nipple. Rush lets out a surprised moan. “What about?” 

“This, us,” Rush says heatedly as Young moves to his other nipple. “ _Fuck_. We really shouldn't do this.” 

Young bites him softly and Rush's nails scratch into his shoulder. “Yeah, you already said that. I'm not convinced.” He fingers Rush's erection through the cloth of his threadbare jeans. “You don't want me to do something about this?” 

Rush groans and grabs Young's face for a rough kiss. There's heat and passion when Rush takes control of the kiss, and he loves it, being the center of Rush's focus and attention like this. It's goddamn addictive. Rush forcefully maps out the inside of his mouth with his tongue, and bites at his lips until Young feels his dick push painfully against the unyielding cloth of his BDUs. 

He breaks the kiss and adjusts himself before standing up from the couch. Rush looks dazed for a few seconds and his eyes linger on Young's crotch for a beat too long, before flicking away. Young offers his hand, and says “Bed,” and everything is a gamble with Rush. He half expects him to say no, to storm out of the room. But Rush takes his hand and lets himself be taken to bed, and Young feels a tingling warmth spread outward from his chest to his fingers, to his toes, even to the tips of his ears. 

-

This is not why he came here. This is not what he intended to do here, even though perhaps, subconsciously, it was. Young almost died today. He closes his eyes. The cool polyester-slippery material of the bed's comforter against the naked skin of his back contrasts starkly with the heat of Colonel Young above him, on him, and he groans quietly as Young bites at his nipple again. Fuck, he wants this, all of this, this proof that both of them are alive and well, no matter how fucked up it is. The emotions Young sends him through their connection are overwhelming, hot arousal and gentle affection, and he can't _think_.

Young's hands are on his jeans, opening them and pulling them down, and Rush doesn't even realize he's kicking his shoes off until he hears them clatter to the floor, and then he's naked, and Young moves over his body like a predator assessing its prey. The air is cold against the precome on his cock, and he shivers when Young runs his hands up and down his abdomen. 

Young is still fully clothed. It makes him feel small and vulnerable, and that should freak him out, but it only makes him more desperate for what is about to come. When Young bends down to suck a kiss onto the crease between his thigh and his hip, Rush can't help but buck up with a needy whine. Fuck. He can't look at this, but he can't look away. Young's eyes dart up and Young gives him the dirtiest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. “What do you want me to do, Rush?” And he can feel the breath on his hard flesh, and all he can do is moan “ _Please_ ”, and then Young is sucking him into his mouth and it's fucking beautiful. It's a revelation. 

It's hot and wet and slick, and it's _Young_ , and even if he wanted to forget that, the steady incoming stream of Young's emotions won't let him. There's lust coursing through him, and a sliver of anxiety, insecurity, but it's nearly unnoticeable underneath the warm grateful fondness that seems to radiate out from under his skin. It's impossible to tell where Young's emotions stop and his own begin, and then Young's tongue dips underneath his foreskin, wriggles against the head of his dick, and he can't hold back a ragged moan. The arousal spikes until it's blocking everything else out and he doesn't know if it's him, if he's doing this or if it's Young, but Young is moving on his cock again, stroking the base with his hand, his tongue an exquisite torture on his tip, making the pleasure rise and rise until it overflows, and he can't hold back, he _can't_ —and then he's arching up and coming down Young's throat, and it's too much, he feels too much, and that ribbon of victorious pride must be Young, and _fuck_. He feels Young swallow around him, and he disintegrates. 

His eyes are wet. He feels empty, wrung out, but Young's emotions and his lust fill him right back up until he's not sure what he's feeling at all anymore. God, if this is what he's been doing to Young, pumping him full of need until he can't think about anything but finding release... He knows he should stop, leave, find a way to make this right again, but instead he drags Young back up to him to kiss his own taste out of his mouth until every thought in his mind is about this, about Young and _want_ and making him come. 

He flips them around so that Young is on his back and he is positioned on top of him, in between Young's legs. He pushes Young's shirt up and bites and kisses around the bandage on his chest before moving down to his stomach while his fingers work open his trousers and expose Young's hard, leaking prick. He can't deny how much he wants this, wants Young, and at this precise moment denying it seems quite a pointless endeavor, so without preamble he wets his lips and slides them over Young's cock. 

The salty slick precome makes his mouth water, and he hears the undignified slurping sounds he makes as he sucks Young off, but he doesn't have the capacities to care about that right now. All he wants is for Young to come, to have his release. He drags his fingers up and down Young's length in time with his mouth, while his other hand scratches absentmindedly through a patch of wiry pubic hair. 

His tongue traces nonsensical patterns over Young's head and against his frenulum as his hand continues stroking him quickly. Young moans and keeps repeating his name in a voice that sounds increasingly desperate, and Rush's cock twitches tiredly. 

“Wait, I'm gonna— _Rush_!” and he feels Young come, feels the release and the relief and that bloody glowing warmth, and it's like he's coming himself too. Young's hips stutter and the inside of his mouth is coated with ejaculate, and he moans around it, and Jesus, when did _that_ become a turn-on? 

Fuck, he has to get away. 

He swallows without thinking and draws off of Young, moving over to the side of the bed. Now that they're not touching anymore, he's left with only his own emotions. He sits with his back to Young. The need has settled, and now he just feels raw and open. A deep ache hollows out his chest, and he has to force away the thick lump in his throat. He doesn't know what course of action to pursue, now that the passion and desire have waned. He feels like he's about to cry, or scream. Why the fuck did he come here?

Suddenly a sated sleepiness wraps around his thoughts, and he realizes that Young has curled his fingers around his wrist. 

“Stay tonight,” he asks, and Rush feels the tendrils of insecurity and hesitant hope beneath the question. He doesn't have the heart to say no. 

He crawls under the covers with Young and folds himself around his back. I'm sorry, he wants to say. Young squeezes Rush's fingers with his own. 

It's easier to fall sleep focusing on Young's emotions.


	10. Chapter 10

When he wakes up, Rush is gone and they're back in FTL.

He wonders if what happened yesterday was a step forward or backward. Maybe it was both. 

At least it took his mind off everything else for a while. He feels guilty about abandoning the people on that planet. He left them there with their captors, while he and his crew reap the benefits of a trade he couldn't fulfill. He fiddles with the bandage on his chest and wonders if it's one of the medical supplies from the planet. 

He thinks about TJ, about how they might be able to cure her now. 

He shaves and dresses, and then pushes the planet people and their problems to the back of his mind. It's out of his control, now. Young grabs his radio before he exits his room. “Eli, James,” he says into his radio. “Meet me in the infirmary.” 

-

Eli looks at him excitedly. “You mean there might be a cure in here?” he points at the console. 

“That's what you are going to tell me. Rush seems to think so.” 

James and TJ step up next to Eli. “This is huge,” TJ says, as Eli flicks through a number of files. 

“Well, it's their entire medical database. They were at about Earth level, development-wise, so yeah, I figure there will be a lot of information to go through.” 

Eli looks up. “I think I can whip up a string of search code. Narrow down what we're looking for.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“But it might take some time, what with all the translating and stuff.” 

Young nods. “You'll figure it out. TJ, I understand James has been helping out in the infirmary?” 

“Yeah.” 

“James, you'll take your shifts here while they're working on this.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Alright,” Young says, and smiles at them. “Good luck.” 

-

Rush gnaws on his bottom lip and stares at the chalk calculations on the wall. He can't find a way out of this on his own, if at all. Maybe, _maybe_ he could use the chair to upload himself and then edit out the parts that the Lii have changed, but he can't do that from within the mainframe, so he'd have to ask someone to help. And he remembers how difficult it was to tell apart entire consciousnesses inside Chloe's brain when Mandy and Ginn had been there... There's no way Eli will be able to cut away only the Lii mutations without erasing anything else. Who knows what else he will lose? It's not a viable solution. 

But he can't keep doing this. 

This... this thing with Young, it's not real. It's the forced touching, the release and the associations, they messed with his mind until he started realizing that he wanted more than just touch, that he wanted to touch _Young_. 

It wasn't even that much of a surprise to discover those feelings. The first few weeks, when he was alone on the bridge, Destiny had used Gloria's face and voice to tell him something similar, only he hadn't been willing to hear it. It feels like he's been circling Young for ages, and as much as he's wanted to stay at a safe distance, Young's gravitational pull has been drawing him closer since long before meeting the Lii. 

He's not quite figured out what it is about Young that attracts his attention whenever the man is in the same room. At first he'd thought it was contempt, distrust, and later it had felt like a deep-seated survival instinct to keep an eye on Young. But things changed between them when the bridge was discovered, when Young proved capable of understanding the significance of Destiny's mission. Young had turned from an obstruction into his most important ally, and with that shift in dynamics something else may have changed as well. Young became... not a friend, not nearly, but the closest to a friend he had on the ship. 

And aesthetically speaking, there is something about Young that appeals to him, Rush can't deny that. He had caught himself involuntarily appreciating the man's physical attributes once or twice, his broad shoulders or his thick, dark hair. He'd been left quite bewildered by the way his heart rate had spiked when Young shook his hand, by the way that strong and secure grip had lingered in his mind for days, but a physical attraction to Young would explain that reaction rather aptly.

And if it was just that, he wouldn't even have minded that much. Sure, it would frustrate him to no end that he was attracted to someone like Young, someone whose bullheaded idiocy he clashed with more often than not. But he would've been able to accept it and move on. 

But this... He's roped Young into this farce with him, and Young doesn't even know. He probably thinks— ...In all honesty, Rush can't even begin to imagine how the Colonel is justifying this to himself, but he fears Young might have convinced himself he actually _likes_ Rush. 

And he didn't do it on purpose, he didn't even realize he was doing it at all, at first. But then in that hotel, he had known. He had done it to distract Young from their fight. And that's probably unforgivable, forcing Young into sex because he couldn't deal with those betrayed accusations. And then yesterday... He'd tried. He'd really, _really_ tried not to project anything, but it still happened, and now everything is fucked, because after everything that happened he can't just neatly tuck away this knowledge, but he can't go on like this either. The longer this continues, the harder everything will collapse around him. He can't keep doing this. He can't see a way out. 

He hurls his stick of chalk at the wall in a fit of pointless rage. It doesn't give him any satisfaction when it breaks in half. 

He's fucked. 

He's so fucking fucked. 

-

Camile is in her quarters when someone knocks on her door. She has just come back from making an IOA report on Earth, and she isn't expecting anyone for at least another hour. 

“Come in,” she calls from her chair. She puts away her laptop and the inventory of the supplies from the planet when Rush enters. 

“Nicholas, how are you?” She motions for him to sit down in the other chair. The number of times he has visited her like this can be counted on one hand. He hasn't been here since before they went into stasis. 

“I have something to tell you, and then I have a rather substantial favor to ask,” he says solemnly. 

Well, if that doesn't sound ominous. She slips into her professional demeanor, and it fits like a well-worn jacket. “Alright, let's hear it.” 

And Rush tells her about the aliens on the abandoned ship, about how he needs touch to stay functional, about how Colonel Young has helped him with it up until now. 

She listens quietly, but she has mixed feeling about this. She's surprised Rush trusted Colonel Young with this, although she suspects Rush has left out the part where he was a difficult pain in the ass about it. She is also irritated that Young and Rush have kept this from her; the physical and emotional well-being of the lead scientist aboard Destiny is absolutely her concern, especially since Rush is a civilian. But more than that, she wishes they had trusted her. Young has been good about keeping her involved with all the major decisions on board, and she believes they've found a system that works. But apparently they didn't think this problem concerned her. 

Something in her face must be giving away her disapproval, because Rush shoots her a contrite look. At least she thinks it's meant to be contrite, it just looks odd on his face. “We should have told you sooner, I'm aware of that. But it's not something I much enjoy discussing, obviously. It's rather... personal.” 

She gives him a nod, a sign that she understands and that he can continue his story. He stays still, eyes cast to the wall. 

“But something changed, between you and the Colonel,” she prompts him. 

He looks confused, like it's such a big leap to make, far beyond her intellectual capabilities. She keeps her face passive and accepting. Don't worry, it says, you can tell me anything. I won't judge. 

Rush looks like he does worry, but he acquiesces eventually. “Yes. I don't want to continue having that physical contact with him anymore.” 

“Did something happen?” The question comes out sharper than she intended it to, and Rush looks startled. He stays still, a small frown on his face. 

“Did he do something?” she asks cautiously, and his eyes jerk back to her face. 

“No! God, no, that's... No, nothing like that.” He sounds appalled that she'd even asked. 

Good. At least that's her worst-case scenario off the table. She looks at him patiently. 

Eventually, he gives her a pained look and says, “I have developed certain feelings that I don't feel comfortable with.” 

That, she did not expect, and she raises her eyebrows without meaning to. It's not even the fact that Rush has 'developed feelings for Young', as he puts it. Those two are reasonably compatible partners for each other, in her opinion. Currently, at least. Aboard Destiny. They're each others' equals, they're both single-minded and strong-willed and lonely, and they could complement each other. Rush needs Young's people skills, his patience, his willingness to understand both sides of a conflict. And Young needs Rush's brain, his challenges, his mission. Ever since they've finally decided to work _with_ , instead of against each other, the both of them seem calmer somehow, more stable. Even happier, in some ways. 

Over the years they've spent so much time obsessing about each other she's actually surprised this hasn't happened sooner. But then, she thinks with a mental grimace, they've found other ways to let off that steam. She vividly remembers Young's wounds after the 'rock slide', or what they'd both looked like after the bridge had been discovered. 

No, the thing that surprises her is that Rush has decided to share this with her. 

“Have you talked to him about that?” 

He snorts. “No, and I don't plan to.” 

“Why not?” 

If looks could kill, she'd be dead now. She makes sure her face doesn't change expressions and stares at him calmly. 

Eventually, he throws up his arms theatrically. “Because even if he did feel the same way – which, believe me, is a fair fucking long shot – I don't want to be in any sort of relationship with him! I don't see that ending any other way than with one or both of us dead.” 

So basically, he's scared. She can't really blame him, after everything that has happened between them. After everything he's been through. After the way Amanda Perry died. 

“Alright, so what if he doesn't reciprocate your feelings?” 

He sighs, and his shoulders droop. “Look, I'm not here to be counseled on how to deal with my physical attraction to Colonel Young,” he says with a decent amount of exasperation. “I'm here to ask for your help while I look into a solution to this problem.” 

“And by help, you mean...?” 

“Touch. Just a handshake once a day should be fine.” 

“I think you should talk to Colonel Young,” she says. He gives her a look that is almost pleading, and she relents. “But of course I'll help you in any way I can.” 

He gives her a relieved look. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome, Nicholas.” 

She reaches out her hand, and he shakes it with an unhappy set to his mouth. 

-

_“Rush, this is Young. Come in.”_

He bites down on the flutter of nerves in his throat and reaches for his radio. “Yes, what is it?” 

_“Can you come down to the infirmary for a minute?”_

“I'll be right there.” 

In less than ten minutes, he is in the hallway that leads up to the infirmary. He meets Young coming up in one of the intersecting corridors, and they walk the last bit side by side. Young seems happy, hopeful, and possibly a little wary, but Rush can't be sure without touching him. He keeps his hands firmly in his pockets. 

As he suspected, the meeting has to do with Lieutenant Johansen's cure. Eli chatters excitedly and explains what they've found in the database. Some of the technology the planet people used is completely foreign to them, but he and Lieutenant Johansen think the stasis pods could be adjusted to work in a similar manner. Rush looks over their solution and has to admit it is quite ingenious. 

“It's just, uh, the specifics of how to get this part to do _that_ , that we're kinda stuck on,” Eli says. 

Rush grabs the crudely drawn schematics Eli hands him. After a few seconds, he nods. “I can help with that, and Mr. Brody can make the necessary hardware modifications.” 

Young claps him on the shoulder and gives him a bright grin. Rush shortly feels the exulted relief flow through him before Young moves over to Eli and Lieutenant Johansen and gives them the same treatment. “Great work, guys! That's really good news.” 

Eli lights up under the praise, still an overgrown kid despite everything. Lieutenant Johansen looks at Young as if she wants to jump into his arms. That's when Varro enters the infirmary, and as soon as Young lets go of her shoulder she is on him, hugging him and burying her face in his shoulder. Varro wraps her in his arms and gives them a grateful smile, but Rush isn't looking at them. He's looking at Young's face, the sad smile he sends their way as he crosses his arms over his chest. Then he looks over at Rush, and their eyes meet, and his smile widens a bit, and suddenly Rush can't get enough air. 

He abruptly turns around, schematics still in hand, and rushes out of the infirmary. He takes the first corridor to his right and leans into the wall, trying to get his heart under control. No. There's no fucking way he's falling for Young. Physical attraction, that's one thing, he can deal with that. He can accept that. But warm, mushy, emotional feelings? For _Young_? No. That's where he draws the line. He is _not_ —

“Rush?” 

And Jesus _fuck_ , why doesn't the man know when to leave well enough alone. 

“Something wrong?” Young asks carefully. And goddammit, yes! Something is very fucking wrong, clearly. 

He turns his head to glare at Young, and says, “We can't do this anymore.” 

Young gives him a confused frown. “What?” 

“This touching every day, it's messing with our heads. We have to stop.” 

“Where is this coming from, Rush? You seemed fine with it before.” 

“Well, I'm bloody not!” he snaps. “I don't want to do this anymore.” 

Young's face is unreadable. The calm, blank facade that used to leave Rush wondering if there was anything going on behind it at all. He knows now that Young uses it to hide himself, to shield his emotions and keep from giving too much away. Part of him wishes he could touch Young right this moment to figure out what he's feeling, but he's very much aware that he's better off not knowing. A dark heaviness settles in the pit of his stomach. “And how are you going to keep from shaking apart?” 

“I've talked to Camile. She's offered to take over.” 

Something ripples over Young's face, but it's gone before he can pinpoint it exactly. “Fine,” Young says without any hint of emotion. “As long as you make sure you can function properly.” Then he turns around and leaves Rush in the corridor by himself. 

When his footsteps have faded, Rush leans back against the wall and lets out a shuddery breath. 

-

“Four weeks?” Tamara asks. It's nothing, four weeks in a stasis pod. They've spent three entire years in there. Of course this is different. This time everyone around her will still be breathing, moving, _living_ , while her body is deconstructed and rebuilt. But it is such a small price to pay to cure the disease that has been trying to cripple her since she learned of its existence inside her. 

“Give or take,” Eli says. “We don't really know exactly how long the whole process will take, but it should be somewhere between twenty and forty days.” 

She bites her lip. “Will it be okay?” 

“It's totally safe. Or, well, we're like, really very sure it's almost certainly safe.” 

“We used the medical database from the planet to establish their genetic markers associated with ALS. Even if they're not 100% identical, it gave us a place to start looking. Eli is running a program that will help us find which exact genomes need to be altered for you to be healthy. We should know before tomorrow,” Rush explains. 

She looks over at Young. He observes Rush blankly, before turning back to her. “We should be okay here, TJ. James, Varro and Chloe have all done shifts with you in the infirmary, they can handle the simple stuff. And we can always get someone from Homeworld Command to switch in if things get hairy.” 

She nods. It's not even a real question. Of course she's going to do it. The corners of her mouth curl up. “So, tomorrow, then?” 

Young smiles back at her. She can tell it's strained, and she wonders what happened between yesterday and today to so completely shift his mood. 

“Yes, tomorrow.”


	11. Chapter 11

Rush looks up when he hears the ruckus from the corner of the workplace. Brody and Volker are obviously very pleased with their progress, as they high-five each other before calling him over. They've been working on one of the parts he'd negotiated on the planet, following his instructions to make the part compatible with Destiny's FTL drives. Rush has been attempting to incorporate aspects of the Lii technology into Destiny's systems for weeks, and the trade with the planet people coincided perfectly with his plans. 

Over the past two weeks, things have settled into a somewhat monotonous calm. He wakes up, has breakfast, does whatever needs to be done to keep Destiny flying, has dinner, shakes hands with Camile, and works on his calculations and schematics until he falls asleep. Nothing noteworthy has happened since the planet. They haven't even dropped out of FTL since then. 

Destiny is due for a recharge. He supposes she'll start looking for a red dwarf soon. They should be far past the radius of those protector ships, so he doesn't expect any trouble on that front either. 

It's all dreadfully boring. 

-

Young walks into the bridge seconds after they drop out of FTL. “What's happening?” 

“Colonel Young,” Volker greets him. “We just dropped out for a recharge, but it looks like there's a gate address in reach. We have eight hours to explore the place before we reach the star.” He types something into his console. “It looks like a good candidate for stocking up on some more food.” 

“We still have plenty in our reserves,” Brody says. 

“Well, yeah, but who knows what we'll find there? Potatoes, strawberries, a cure for the common cold?” 

Young nods. “I'll send out a team to see if we can find anything useful there.” 

-

“I'm busy here, you can send someone else.” 

“No. TJ is in stasis and you're the most qualified to recognize possible medicinals down there,” Youngs says. It's the first actual conversation he's had with Rush since that talk outside the infirmary. It's going great. 

“That's ridiculous. What makes me the most qualified? Doctor Inman is our resident expert on plant life.” 

“Inman is coming with us to identify edible plants. I need someone else to check for medicinals.” Rush looks like he's gearing up for an argument, but Young cuts him off before he can start protesting again. “Look, I'm not asking, Rush. You're going.” 

Rush curses, but after a few seconds he gets up from his crouch and pockets his piece of chalk. Young can't help the quick flash of triumph as he follows Rush to the gateroom. 

“Alright, you have seven and a half hours before we enter the star,” Eli says from the console near the back of the gateroom. “It looks tropical out there. Bring back oranges if you can find some!” 

Young hands Rush one of the empty backpacks and grabs one for himself, and then they follow Inman and Barnes through the gate. 

-

Eli wasn't lying when he said the planet looked tropical. It's at least thirty-five degrees Celsius, and the humidity must be well above eighty percent. From the side of his eye he sees Young taking off his jacket and placing it next to the gate. Rush ignores him and looks around. They're in a clearing, the tall grass comes up to his thighs, and around it a jungle looms so high most of the sky is blocked out. 

“Inman, Barnes, you check out that part of the forest for food. Don't go too far, I want you able to be back at the gate within the hour.” Young turns to him and points in the opposite direction. “We'll take this side.”

They part ways, and Rush reluctantly follows Young into the jungle. Within minutes, his shirt is plastered to his back. 

Young hands him samples of everything that looks promising, roots and all, and Rush deposits it in his backpack. It's nonsense that he's here, he doesn't know anything about plants. He's not even sure why he followed the Colonel. If he'd really made a scene, Young probably would've backed down. 

Perhaps he still feels guilty for what he did to the man. Possibly he's actually grateful for the break from monotony. It's not because these past two weeks he's kind of started to miss Young's company. 

“So,” Young says, after nearly an hour of silence. “How's it going?” 

It's the first time he's acknowledged they haven't really talked in over two weeks. 

Rush huffs. “I _was_ having quite a productive day until you decided to drag me out here to be your bag boy.” 

Young shoots him a frown. “Not what I meant.” 

Rush sighs and looks away. “I know.” Young pulls a fern-like plant from the ground and hands it to him. 

“Things are working out with Camile?” 

“Obviously,” Rush says, as he puts the fern in his backpack. It's almost three quarters full already. 

They don't speak for another half hour. 

Suddenly Young stops walking. He turns to face Rush, and Rush has no choice but to wait and see what he's going to say. 

“You never told me why we had to stop.” 

Rush feels his heartbeat pick up. “Yes, I did. It was confusing us.” 

“I wasn't confused,” Young says. His voice is gruff and his face is unreadable. 

Yes, you were, Rush wants to respond. From the corner of his eye he sees a bright red beetle climb up his sleeve. He flicks it off. “What are you saying?” he asks. 

Young ignores him. “Is touching Camile confusing you?” 

Rush can't hide his frown. No, of course touching Camile isn't confusing him. 

Although now that he thinks about it, that might in fact be stranger than he'd realized. Because Mandy spent weeks in her body when she first came to Destiny. He can't deny Camile is a beautiful woman. Of course he knows she's gay, so maybe that explains why he has never viewed her as a potential romantic interest. But then, he'd always assumed Young was straight, and that obviously hadn't deterred him. 

“It's different,” he says. “We shake hands every day. There's no build-up.” Young looks unimpressed. “It's different.” 

He feels something tickle his neck, and he slaps his hand down to kill whatever bug is on him. When he checks his palm he sees a few drops of blood and another red beetle, its dark intestines squashed out. Suddenly every cell in his body is on fire, it's like his insides are being dipped in acid. His skin burns _everywhere_. 

Rush screams in shock and fear. He can't think, everything is burning in bright red agony behind his eyelids, and he falls to his knees. In the distance he hears Young call his name, but he can't speak because he's gritting his teeth against another scream. His entire being is a sea of pain. 

It feels as if electric shocks wrack through him. His body seizes up, his arms flail spasmodically, and then everything goes black.

When he gets back to himself, the pain isn't any less intense, any less all-consuming, but after a few moments he realizes he's moving. Young is carrying him over his shoulder and they're not going to make it, he's going to die on this stupid planet with its stupid plants and he feels tears streaming down his face but he can't process anything beyond the burning acid all over his skin, in his bones, down the inside of his throat. 

“Hold on, Rush! We're almost there!” 

Distantly, he can feel the fear and the adrenaline-infused anxiety that Young must be experiencing, but the relentless onslaught of _pain, pain, pain_ takes precedence.

“I'm sorry,” he sobs wretchedly, before losing consciousness again. 

-

Inman and Barnes are already waiting for them at the gate. 

“Is he okay?” Barnes asks, and it takes him every last shred of willpower not to yell at her that _no_ , clearly Rush isn't okay. The man flops lifelessly over his shoulder, and Young has no idea how to help him. 

“Check us for red beetles, he got bitten by one before he started convulsing!” he orders. The last thing they need is an infestation of the bugs aboard the ship. 

They make a quick circle around him and Rush, and then Inman dials the gate back to Destiny. Barnes takes Rush's pulse and looks worried. 

As soon as the event horizon settles, Young is through it. 

He almost yells 'Get TJ!', before he realizes she's not there. She's in one of the stasis pods. _She can't help_. 

“James, Varro!” he shouts instead, and they run over to him as he lays Rush's unconscious form on the floor in the gateroom. “He got bit by a bug and started screaming. I think he had a seizure too.” 

James and Varro look at each other quickly, before moving in to take Rush's pulse and his temperature. “Look at his skin. We need to get him to the infirmary,” James says, and Varro nods before he scoops up Rush's motionless body. Young can't think to do anything but follow them there. 

-

They take off Rush's shirt and put cold compresses on him. They rub a thick layer of a gel-like substance on his skin, and pour ice water down his throat in little sips. Young sits in the corner of the infirmary with his head in his hands. 

“What about the epinephrine?” Varro asks, when Rush doesn't seem to react the way they had hoped. 

“I don't know!” James says. “I don't think this is an allergic reaction. His heart is going way too fast, we have to slow it down.” 

Eli comes running in with Chloe in tow. “This is Doctor Halley, she can help!” 

She looks Rush over, and listens as James summarizes what they've tried so far. “Do you have any anti-arrhythmic medication on board? Any propafenone? Rythmol?” 

James shakes her head. 

“We're going to have to try shocking his heart then. Do you have electric paddles?” 

Varro jumps forward and makes for one of the cupboards in the back. He hastily brings the machine over to Doctor Halley. Young watches silently as the woman in Chloe's body clears some of the transparent gel off Rush's chest before sending an electrical pulse into his heart. 

She puts her fingers on the pulse point in his wrist for several seconds, and nods. “His rhythm is normalizing again. It looks like a venomous bite. If we were on Earth I'd administer an anti-venom, but that doesn't really seem to be an option here...” She gives James and Varro a placid look. “I think you've done all you can for him for now. Keep his temperature down and make sure his heart rate stays regular and normal, but he's going to have to get through this on his own.” 

“How long until he gets better?” Eli asks, his voice full of worry. 

“I can't say,” she answers. “But unless he slips into a coma, my guess is he'll wake up in a few hours.” 

_“Colonel Young, three minutes until we enter the star,”_ Volker says through his radio. 

“You should get back to Earth, Doctor Halley,” Young says, getting up from his chair. His voice is steady, strong. None of the things he is feeling at the moment. “Thank you for your help.” He calls Greer to disconnect the stones, and the next second Chloe is standing in front of him again. 

“Is he okay?” she asks, eyes wide and worried. 

“He'll wake up soon,” Young answers. 

-

Three hours later, Rush still hasn't woken up.

The FTL engines hum steadily beneath them, and he can't stop tracking his eyes over Rush's unconscious form. The red rash all over his skin seems to have lessened, although he's still not completely back to normal. Young wraps his fingers around Rush's wrist to take his pulse again. Doctor Halley said to keep an eye on his heart rate. That's what he's doing. 

He's sent James and Varro away. They're on call, but they didn't need to stay here to wait for Rush to wake up. A knock on the door to the infirmary makes him look up. His fingers glide away from Rush's wrist. 

Barnes is standing there with his jacket in her hands. He hadn't even realized he'd lost it. 

“I'm sorry, I hope I'm not bothering you, sir.” 

“No, come in, Corporal.” 

“Doctor Rush seems better than before,” she says. He gives her a tiny smile, and she hands him his jacket. “You'd left it on the planet. I thought you might need it.” 

“Thank you, Barnes. I appreciate it,” he says. 

“If there's anything I can do, please let me know, sir.” 

He tells her he will, and she wishes him a good night. 

His eyes move over to Rush again. He looks different, lying so still. Usually he is all action and whirling dramatics, demanding attention and respect by sheer force of personality. The only times he's seen Rush be still like this were when he was in the chair, or in an infirmary bed. And...well, he doesn't want to think about the other times right now. 

Rush is a tough son of a bitch, though. He has lived through things Young isn't sure he could have survived himself. He won't be done in by some tiny venomous beetle on some backwater planet. He'll wake up in no time, and then he'll be off doing calculations in his gloomy math corridors again. Or yelling at Volker about some unforgivable shortcoming. Or looking at Young like there's nothing more between them, even though they both know how the other tastes and there's no way to pretend that they don't. 

Rush will be fine. He has to be. 

Young takes his pulse again.


	12. Chapter 12

He wakes up, and for a few long seconds that's all he knows. His head feels like everything that is usually there is replaced by a dark, viscous goo. He can't think. His vision is swimming, and his limbs are too heavy to lift. His insides feel like they're knotted up with razor wire. 

Rush lies still for minutes, trying to get used to the sensations. It takes him absurdly long to realize someone is sleeping next to him. Colonel Young is sitting at his bedside. He's bowed forward, his head pillowed on where his folded arms rest on the bed. Rush's vision is blurry, but he can still tell Young looks exhausted. 

He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. There's no way to know how long he lies there like that, not wholly conscious, but not in the black unexistence of dreamless sleep either. He hovers on the border, aware of the pain in his body but not overly bothered by it, until faint, muffled worry scratches at his mind. It's not his. He opens his eyes slowly, and catches Young's fingers on his wrist. The fingers slip away.

“Rush? Hey,” Young says softly. His voice is gentle. He knows he hates it when Young does that, but he has no idea why. It's a nice sound. 

“You were bitten by a venomous bug, on the planet. How're you feeling?” 

Rush tries to clear his throat. It feels raspy and dry. 

“Oh, right,” Young says, before bringing a cup of water to him. “Here.” 

When he makes no move to grab it, Young cups his head and makes him drink a few sips. The water soothes his tongue, his throat, even though his stomach squeezes painfully around it. Young lowers his head back to the pillow, and Rush immediately misses the barely-there, fuzzy feeling of his emotions lapping through him. 

“Hurts,” Rush forces out. His voice sounds hoarse, and he wonders absently if he's been screaming. 

Young looks at him. “Yeah, I figured as much. I can give you some of that aspirin stuff TJ keeps around here?”

Rush nods slightly, careful not to slosh his brain too much. 

Young moves about the infirmary and comes back with a small cup of murky green liquid. “Here.” Once again, he lifts Rush's head and brings the cup to his lips. The taste is distant, he faintly registers the earthy bitterness, but his mind and his mouth seem separated by light years. 

They sit together in silence for a long while. The aspirin leaves aren't as strong as Earth aspirin, but they numb the pain in his body just enough to clear his mind a bit. His thoughts are still foggy, and wide coronas surround every single spark of light in his vision, but it's better than before. 

Young breaks the silence. His voice is low and full of gravel. “You said you were sorry, on the planet.” 

Rush hears his heartbeat thrum in his ears. Had he said that? He can't remember. All he remembers is the unrelenting agony burning through his entire body, and Young shouting his name. After that everything went black. 

“Why?” Young asks. 

Rush doesn't even know. He's done so many things he's sorry for. He has lied, manipulated, made mistakes. He's hurt people. Hurt Young. But perhaps what he's done to him this time is worse than all the other times. Because he has Young convinced that he cares about Rush, that he _likes_ him, and that is just a whole other level of fucking with someone. And it's worse, because now he knows how good this might have been. If he hadn't forced Young into this, perhaps it could've worked. Because Rush wants this. Wants him. His entire body aches to reach out for Young, to feel him. Skin and heat and emotions. 

Rush flicks his eyes to the side. They're burning, but it's because of the venom still coursing through his body. 

Young hooks his fingers around his wrist, gently, cautiously, and Rush hears his own breath hitch. He can feel the uncertainty, the fear, the _care_ running through Young, and it's like a vice squeezing his heart. 

If he hadn't realized, if he hadn't known how Young kisses, what he sounds like when he comes, this wouldn't matter. He could've happily gone on living in denial, viewing Young as something similar to the limited range of their stargate: annoying at times, but something to be accepted and worked with, a fixture on Destiny that just...is what it is. He's ruined that blissful ignorance by showing himself what might've been, and now he isn't sure how he is going to cope with Young on the ship. Always too close for comfort, but never close enough.

“What are you sorry for, Rush?”

He wishes that he'd gone to Camile from the start. That he hadn't given in. That he didn't _know_. 

“Us,” he answers, as he pulls his wrist from Young's fingers. 

He's looking away, he can't see Young's reaction. But eventually he hears the chair move back, and Young's voice sounds hollow when he says, “I'll get James in here to keep an eye on you.” 

As his footsteps fade away, Rush wonders if this is what he was aiming for. The empty ache in his chest has nothing to do with the venom. 

-

He has no idea how he ended up here, in Camile's quarters, in the middle of the night. She looks at him silently, waiting for him to start talking, and he wonders if she expects him to treat her like a friend, or a psychiatrist. 

He rubs his knuckles. They're bruised. The third knuckle has a scrape from where it caught on one of the seams between wall panels in the corridor. He shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have lost his temper like that. But the pain gives him something to focus on. 

It's not as if he hadn't expected things to end badly between him and Rush. That had been the first thought that crossed his mind when he started contemplating...whatever it was they had been doing. But this isn't the huge explosive fight he'd expected. The one gigantic bombshell they just couldn't move past. This anticlimactic ending, like the air seeping out of a half-inflated balloon, it's unsatisfying. And it's infuriating, because he doesn't understand _why_ Rush suddenly decided he doesn't want this anymore, just when Young is starting to realize how much he does. 

If you had asked him two years ago, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. Rush was Rush, an arrogant, antisocial genius, who saved their asses as easily as he put them in the line of fire. Young didn't know him very well, or like him very much, but he could appreciate that the crew needed him to survive. As time on Destiny went on, things first became a whole lot worse, and then they became better. He's seen Rush risk life and limb to save others, seen that the death and hurt he caused _does_ affect him. Basically, he's learned that Rush isn't the callous asshole he pretends to be. And it was better, to finally understand Rush a bit. To see the possibility of a good working relationship, maybe even the tentative beginnings of an actual friendship. 

When Rush had come to him with his touch problem, Young felt they'd turned over a new leaf. Finally, _finally_ Rush had decided to trust him of his own accord. And the touching, well, it had shaken loose something he hadn't expected. But when he'd seen it, when he realized the possibilities there, Young couldn't deny that he wanted it. And he _knows_ Rush wanted it too. So yes, he's confused and hurt and pissed, because he can't force Rush to give this a chance, but he can't just bottle up these feelings and go on like nothing happened, either. 

He looks up from his hands, and sees Camile gazing at him calmly. He can't talk about this with any of the military personnel. He's their commander, their leader. He can't take his personal problems and shove them onto Scott, or Greer, or least of all TJ. And he sure as shit can't talk to Rush about this. So he finds himself here, in Camile's quarters, weighing the pros and cons of sharing his soap opera drama with her. 

“This is about Rush, isn't it?” she finally asks. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and it's as if that opens a dam inside his mind. He tells her about the touching, how it had changed something between them, and how Rush retreated, suddenly and without reason. He doesn't go into detail, but she seems to understand everything he's implying. 

“And you tried talking to him?” 

Young looks at his hands again. “When he was bitten on the planet, before he passed out, he said he was sorry.” He hesitates, presses his fingertips gingerly into his bruised knuckles. “Just now, when he woke up, I asked him what for. He said 'us'.” 

She frowns slightly. “Did you ask him what he meant by that?” 

“It's pretty clear what he meant by that.” 

She makes a soft 'hm' noise. “It's not clear to me, Everett.” 

He almost scoffs. “When he came to you, did he tell you? Why he wanted to stop?” 

“He was rather cryptic. I advised him to talk to you about it, but it seems talking isn't really what the two of you do best.” There's disapproval in her voice, but also a hint of exasperated amusement. 

He knows she won't tell him what exactly Rush said. He's quiet for a long time. “Do you think if I talked to him, I could convince him...?” 

“Convince him of what?”

He swallows thickly. God, he sounds like a melodramatic teenager. “To give me... _this_ , a chance.” 

She smiles at him. “If you say the right things.” 

Well, that's helpful. 

“Look,” she says gently. “Rush is the only one who knows why he suddenly broke this off between you two. The way I see it, you're never going to find out from anyone but him. I know you military types prefer action over words.” She gives him a small smile to soften the barb. “But sometimes talking _is_ the best course of action.”

He lets her words sink in. He knows she's right. He's not convinced he can get Rush to talk back, but it's not like he has any better options. He nods at her, and stands up.

“Thanks, Camile. I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep.” 

She gives him a pat on the arm as she walks him back to her door. “Don't worry about it, Everett.” 

-

The next morning Rush goes back to work. Lieutenant James doesn't want to let him go from the infirmary, but she doesn't have the same backbone and experience as Lieutenant Johansen, so he waltzes right past her objections. 

Three hours later, he thinks perhaps he should have listened to her, after all. His arms and legs are tingling, and he is sweating profusely. He can't decipher his handwriting minutes after making a note or calculation, so it's not like he's even doing any real work anymore. He's contemplating whether or not to go to his room for some rest, when Young walks into the control interface room. Marvelous, that's all he needs right now. 

“Why the hell are you not in the infirmary?” Young demands with a frown. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Rush answers sarcastically, but his voice comes out sounding weak. He wipes at his forehead and his hand comes away wet with perspiration. He doesn't want to go back to the infirmary. “I was actually thinking of going back to my quarters to rest for a little while.” 

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Young says, and then he just stands there, waiting for Rush to start walking. 

He sighs and slips his notepad into his pocket before making his way out of the control interface room. “I don't need an escort, Colonel.” 

Young huffs. “Well, you're getting one.” His voice brooks no argument, and truth be told, Rush is feeling too ill and too tired to put up much of a fight anyway. 

They walk in silence. The pace is not as fast as he would've liked, but right now he prefers walking slowly over tripping and falling flat on his face. At least Young doesn't comment on it. 

Eventually, when they're about halfway there, the Colonel breaks their silence. 

“I want to ask you something. And I want you to be honest with me.” 

No. No, no, no, not while he's like this. Not while he's weak and shaky, and everything is blurred around the edges. He needs to be able to _think_. 

“Yesterday you said you were sorry about us, and I thought I understood what you meant. But now I'm not so sure anymore.”

Technically, it's not even a question. He doesn't feel obliged to answer anything. Rush stays quiet as he steadily keeps moving forward. One foot in front of the other. Don't lean on the wall. _Definitely_ don't lean on Young. He can do this. 

“Rush.” And the fucker sounds _patient_ , for God's sake. 

“I feel like we keep having this conversation,” Rush finally bites out. 

“Not really,” Young says amiably. “You just made a decision that includes both of us, without any explanation, and now I'm asking you about it.” 

“Why?” 

Young snorts out a breath through his nose, like this is amusing to him. “Seriously? Because I don't agree with it, and I want to know what reason you could possibly have to just quit—this. Whatever it is we were doing.” 

Rush feels his scowl deepening, and continues to concentrate on getting to his room. The silence presses in on him from all sides. 

“Did I do something?” Young asks carefully, after minutes have passed. And it's the first time during the conversation that Rush can hear any insecurity in his voice. It makes him sound jarringly vulnerable, and that is just so fucking unfair, because this isn't Young's fault. None of this is. He wishes he could blame the man, but he can't.

“No,” he says. He's surprised by how exasperated his own voice sounds.

“Well, then _what_?”

They've finally reached his room, and for a second he thinks he's done with this conversation, but then Young just steps inside after him and closes the door, and now he's really trapped. 

“Rush.” 

He sits on his bed and refuses to look at Young. 

“You know I'm just going to keep asking until you answer me.” 

And the thing is, if he's honest with himself, perhaps the most significant reason he doesn't want to tell Young is because he knows that the truth will really end this. Young will realize that all of it, everything he thinks he's feeling, isn't real, and this, whatever it is they had, will be conclusively over. But isn't that what he's been trying to do for weeks now - end it? And Young will keep asking and asking until he gets an answer that satisfies him, so perhaps this is for the best. This way they sever all ties and they can finally be done. For good. 

He looks at the door when he starts talking. He doesn't have it in him to make eye contact. 

“When the Lii took us, changed us, they did more than make it so we needed touch. I can also feel your emotions when we touch, Colonel, because that is how they communicate. But I didn't realize until much later that there's something else.” 

Young sits next to him on the bed, and Rush can't help the nervous flutter his heart makes. He wants to hit something. Possibly himself. Instead, he continues speaking. 

“I noticed while we were on their ship, sometimes I could feel their emotions radiate off them. Even without physical contact. I didn't pay it much mind at the time, but they must have given me that ability too.” 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Young looking at him. “What are you saying, Rush?” 

“The touching, our touching, it confused me. It was intimate and intense, and I think it awakened something in me that I hadn't expected. I started to want more than just platonic handshakes. I started to want...” He swallows thickly. Fuck, this is difficult. “When we, the first time we—in your quarters...you have to believe me when I tell you I didn't know I was doing it,” he says, desperation coloring his voice.

“Doing what?” 

“On that ship, I could differentiate because I knew where I was and how those aliens communicated, but you couldn't have known... You didn't know that when you became aroused, it was my emotions you were feeling,” he tries to explain. “You didn't want this, you never did.”

“That's why you wanted to stop?” Young asks. “Because you thought you were making me have sex with you?” 

Rush grimaces, and keeps his eyes fixed on the door. “You can't tell me you would feel comfortable sleeping with someone who has no idea they don't actually want to.” 

“Wait, you said the first time you didn't do it on purpose. What about the other two?” 

Rush stays quiet. His eyes flick to the floor and he knows he looks guilty as fuck. This is it, then. Now there will be outrage and violence, and he clenches his fists even though he has no intention of fighting back this time. Now Young will finally realize what he did. At least that will end all of this. There's no coming back from something like that. He expects Young to shove him off the bed, to punch him, to call him a piece of shit, _anything_. 

He does not expect Young to gently bump his shoulder with his own. 

“Rush, for how smart you are, you can really be kind of stupid.” 

He wants to snarl at Young, to push him away, to _make him stop_ , but he can't do anything because this ridiculous exasperated fondness is flowing through him from where Young is leaning against him. Because the high-pitched relief that sings through him closes his throat. 

“Unless you've got some serious long distance range on that emotions thing, I'm pretty sure it's not just you that wants this,” Young says, voice going rough. “I've been thinking of you every night. Of what we did. Of what I still want to do.” 

Rush feels something slither and twist inside his stomach. He stomps down on it. 

“The only reason you think you want this is because it was forced onto you.” 

A wave of Young's annoyance washes over him, and he finally dares to look at the man. “Rush, I am a grown-ass man, I can decide for myself what I want. Even if what you say is true, and I don't think it is, all that really means is that you're a morally ambiguous bastard.” Young lets out a sharp huff. “I knew that already. And I still want you. If I needed a wake-up call to realize how I feel, or how I could feel, does that mean none of it is real?” 

Rush's head is swimming. This is not how he imagined this confession would play out. He was prepared for a physical fight, or at the very least a verbal one. He is not prepared for a Young who is arguing that they should just forget about how Rush fucked with his mind until he was sufficiently conditioned to get hard at the right time. Jesus Christ. He can't do this, not right now. Not while he's shivering with exhaustion and on the verge of throwing up. Maybe not ever. 

Rush shakes his head and looks away. “I'm sorry.” 

Young sighs and drops his head in his hands. “Goddammit, you're a lot of work.” 

Rush is quiet for a long while. “I think I should get some rest.” 

After Young has left his quarters, he stares at the door until his eyes finally fall shut. 

He dreams of drowning.


	13. Chapter 13

Young sighs and absentmindedly lets his fingers tap against the side of his desk. 

He isn't sure how to feel about his conversation with Rush. On the one hand, Rush basically admitted he still wants to sleep with him, so that's encouraging. On the other hand, Rush seems to be convinced Young is only interested in him because he's suffering from some sort of sexual Stockholm Syndrome, and no matter how much Young protests that he really _does_ want it, Rush isn't going to listen. 

Rush's jumbled explanation seems plausible enough, but there are some pretty big holes in his reasoning as well. Why would it only work with sexual arousal, but not with anger, or embarrassment, or pain? 

In fact, the more he thinks about it, the whole idea rings false to him. He doesn't want Rush simply because Rush wanted _him_. He wants Rush, because he's terrible and enraging and brilliant and goddamn amazing sometimes. And being with someone again, being with _Rush_ , was one of the best feelings he's had since coming to this ship. 

In all honesty, Young thinks he's probably felt an attraction to Rush for a long time. Maybe he didn't recognize it as such, but his level of suspiciousness toward Rush had always slightly confused him. From day one he'd found himself tracking the man with his eyes, listening for mentions of his name in other people's conversations. And he can hardly claim it was really necessary to watch all that kino footage on Rush as much and as often as he had. He'd just felt this urge, this inexplicable need to see more, to _understand_ more. To figure Rush out. It had made sense at the time, but in hindsight Young thinks possibly there was more to it after all. Maybe he and Rush have been heading in this direction for a long time. It sure beats the hell out of any alternative he can think of.

Besides, something in Rush's explanation seemed off. Not because he thinks Rush was lying; he's seen Rush lie and the man is simply not that good at it. Or maybe Young's just learned to read him better over the years. In any case, he believes that Rush believes what he said. But weeks ago, when Scott and Rush had first reported on the Lii incident... Something just doesn't sit right. He's missing something. 

Eventually, he looks up the report and reads through it. And then he reads through it again. 

And then he smiles. 

-

“Sir?” 

“You heard me, Lieutenant. Try to project an emotion onto me,” Young says. 

“Er, okay. Is ambivalence an emotion?” Scott asks, and Young absentmindedly thinks Eli is rubbing off on him. 

“I don't see why not,” he answers jovially. “Just, really give it your best shot.” 

Scott truly does try his hardest, squinting his eyes and everything. Young doesn't feel anything other than triumphant glee. “Alright, thanks, Scott.” 

“What was that about, sir?” 

“Just testing a theory. Rush seemed to think he could project his feelings onto people.” 

“Oh, the Lii did do that, yeah,” Scott says, tilting his head in thought. “But we could only feel it after they changed us.” 

“That's what you said in your report. I just wanted to make sure,” Young says. He can't wait to see Rush's face when he tells him. “How have things been going with you, is the need to touch still stable?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Up to forty-eight hours is no problem, at least.”

“Good, that's good.”

“Are you coming to Movie Night, sir?” Scott asks. “Chloe and Eli said they found some really awesome movies in the database from that planet. They were really hoping you'd come tonight.” 

Young smiles. When Eli and Chloe had suggested it to him, he'd said it was a good idea, and they'd ran with it. Eli wanted their movie night to coincide with the reopening of the observation deck. He's figured out a way to turn the massive window into a projection screen, and for days he and Chloe have been dragging in benches from unused areas to create sitting space for everyone on board. Chloe has even convinced Inman and Becker to create movie snacks, she'd told him excitedly. He's heard people on board talking about it, and it seems that everyone is looking forward to it. 

It'll be nice to spend a crisis-free night devoted solely to being entertained and together with all of Destiny's crew. 

“I wouldn't miss it, Scott.” 

-

Rush stiffens when he hears the familiar footsteps. He briefly considers hiding, but then Young steps inside, and it's too late. It was a stupid idea anyway. 

“Morning, Rush,” Young greets him. He sounds relaxed, upbeat even, and Rush doesn't understand it. He'd thought their talk yesterday was rather final. Young had seemed defeated and unhappy when he left, so what caused this complete change of mood?

“Colonel,” he says warily. 

Young rolls his eyes and smiles at him. It's almost indulgent, and Rush has no idea how to react to that. “I've been thinking, we should both go to Eli and Chloe's movie tonight. It will be good for morale if we're there.” 

That, Rush did not expect. “I highly doubt my being there would have any considerable impact on morale.” 

“Nonsense,” Young says brightly. “Eli and Chloe would be heartbroken if you didn't show up for their big night.” 

And it's an odd tactic, playing on his humanity like that. It's even odder that part of him actually wants to go. He sighs, and he's about to say no when Young speaks, his face and voice suddenly serious. 

“Rush, you were wrong. You can't project anything onto me. I slept with you because I wanted to. So stop being such a martyr and just come be with the crew for one night.” 

Before Rush can answer Young grasps his wrist and gives him a piece of paper. He feels Young's anticipation, his nerves, the self-satisfied amusement, and a low current of aroused attraction. Young holds him for a few seconds, and then slips his hand away. “I will see you at dinner tonight.” And before Rush can think of an appropriate response, he disappears through the door again.

Rush looks down at the paper in his hand. It's the report on their Lii encounter. 

-

Young feels his heartbeat speed up when Rush walks into the mess. 

He excuses himself from his table, and takes his bowl of soup over to where Rush is getting his own ration. 

“Hey,” he says, once he's followed Rush to an empty table in the corner of the mess, and sits down opposite him. “I wasn't sure you'd come.”

Rush takes a bite of the almost-tomato soup, and glances up at his face. “Well, I have to eat.” 

Young decides not to comment on why that's a non-argument. He's glad Rush is here. Maybe that means he understands, finally.

“How's it going with incorporating that Lii technology into Destiny's FTL systems?”

Rush gives him an unreadable look, before his face softens slightly and he turns back to his food. “Still doing some prep work on the parts, but I expect we'll be able to start installing the hardware next week.”

“And then? We'll go faster?” 

“That's the idea. Should be somewhere between twenty to thirty-five percent faster, actually.” 

“And you're not worried we might miss something, some piece of information we'd need to complete Destiny's mission?” 

Rush glances up from his soup to look him in the eye. “We'll still have to take the same route, make all the stops we do now. We'll just spend less time in FTL.” 

Young smiles. “That's good, then.” 

Rush eats quietly for a while. “What are you hoping to gain here?” he asks suddenly. 

Young furrows his brow and studies Rush's face. “I don't know, you said we'd have greater understanding of the universe and its beginning. That we might gain the power to right the wrongs. Now that we're so close, I want to find out what exactly that means.” 

Rush shakes his head. “I mean with this.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Us.” 

“Oh.” Young thinks for a few seconds. “Well, I haven't thought about it in those terms, exactly. I just think that it would be nice to have someone on the ship, you know? Someone to talk to, to be with...” He clears his throat awkwardly. “And when we're working together, we make a good team.”

“And you think sleeping with each other is going to make working together easier?” Rush asks under his breath. Young doesn't think it's necessary; everyone in the mess hall is excited about the movie tonight, and the voices and laughter are loud enough to drown out anything they're talking about.

“Don't you?” Young grins. Because for all Rush's protests, he's here, and he's practically asking Young to reassure him that this can work. “At least it'll take the edge off some of our disagreements.” 

“I can't start compromising on my work simply because I'm fucking you,” Rush hisses. 

“I don't want you to compromise your work, Rush. I want you doing everything you can to keep Destiny flying, to fulfill her mission. And if you make a decision that is bad for the crew, I will step in and stop you. That won't ever change.” 

Rush looks like he's not sure how to feel. Judging from his eyebrows and the set of his mouth, Young thinks it might be somewhere between annoyed and relieved. He nudges Rush's foot under the table. “Look, we don't have to make this into a big thing. You need to be touched, I enjoy being the one to do it. Maybe sometimes we have sex.”

“It's not that simple,” Rush says, and Young feels something flutter in his stomach. 

“No, probably not,” he agrees. “But is that such a bad thing?” 

“I don't know,” Rush admits eventually. And he looks lost and uncertain, but he doesn't move his foot away. 

“Come on, I wanna show you something.” Young takes their empty bowls and gives them back to Becker. Then he motions at Rush to follow him out of the mess. He feels a little thrill when Rush falls into step beside him. 

He walks them to the observation deck, sudden nerves flitting through his chest. Something in the air has shifted. 

When he opens the door and they step through, it's even better than he'd imagined. The repair robots did a good job at fixing the damage, everything looks brand new. But the real change is what Chloe and Eli have done to the observation deck. It looks a bit like an amphitheater, with benches in half-circular rows facing the observation windows. Between some of the benches they've placed the high grass-like plants from hydroponics, partly for decoration but mainly to create some privacy for couples, and on both sides of the deck there are stations where drinks and snacks will be served. Even the lighting is dim and cozy, giving the impression of a real movie theater.

“They did a pretty good job, didn't they?” Young asks with a small smile. 

Rush looks around slowly, and then quirks the corner of his mouth up as well. “Not bad.” 

Young checks his watch. Movie night won't start for another hour. Chloe and Eli probably won't be here for another thirty minutes. He hasn't made out in a movie theater since he was a teenager. 

“Rush,” he says in a low voice, and turns to crowd him against the back wall of the room. Rush searches his face and breathes in shakily, and then he lunges forward and they're kissing. Rush pulls him closer by his hair as he bites at his lips and sucks on his tongue, and Young doesn't know if he'll ever get used to being manhandled like this. He moans into Rush's mouth. 

Fuck, Rush is the dirtiest kisser he's ever been with, and his dick fills up so fast his head spins. 

When he pushes his hips forward, he feels Rush is getting hard as well. He thinks maybe they shouldn't do this, maybe not here, not now, but then Rush is opening his pants and sliding his hand around his cock, and all conscious thought leaves him for a minute. 

“Wait, Rush!” he groans against Rush's mouth. “You're gonna...you can't make me come right here.” 

He feels Rush's lips curl up before Rush leans back slightly to nip at his neck. “That sounds like a challenge, Colonel.” Then he takes his hand away from Young's cock and brings it up to his mouth. “Spit,” he breathes directly into his ear.

And shit, that shouldn't be hot, but for some reason it is, and he spits in Rush's hand. Rush looks on with that catlike smirk, and then spits in his own hand as well. When he puts it back on Young's dick again, everything is slicker and faster, and when Rush bites his throat with just enough teeth to hurt a little Young knows he's not going to last long. Christ, he's missed this, missed having Rush against him like this.

He closes his eyes and lets the sensations wash over him. Rush's hand stroking him fast, his lips and tongue and teeth on his throat, and his erection hard against Young's leg. It's so good, and he's been thinking about this for _weeks_ now. The buzz of exhilaration coils tighter and tighter in his stomach. “Jesus, yes, don't stop— _Rush_!” And then he's coming, overwhelming pleasure, and release, and Rush against him, and everything else is pushed to the background for a second. Suddenly the realization hits him that the surprised moan he hears is coming from Rush, and another rough shiver goes through him. 

When he opens his eyes again, Rush looks him straight in the eye and licks Young's come off his hand. And _fuck_ , a hard wave of arousal hits him at the obscenity of it, and his balls contract almost painfully. Rush closes his eyes and groans. His other hand grips more tightly at Young's shoulder. 

“That really does something for you, huh?” Rush asks breathlessly when he opens his eyes again. 

“Ah, you felt that?” Young's voice isn't nearly as steady as he would've liked. 

“Yeah,” he says in a hoarse voice. “I felt it when you came, too. Almost set me off as well.” Young looks down heatedly when Rush presses his erection into his leg. 

“You must be getting pretty desperate then,” Young growls, as he pushes Rush back into the wall and kisses him roughly. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of tasting himself on Rush's tongue.

“You have no idea,” Rush breathes out when Young lets him up for air. 

It's a snap decision, and before he fully realizes what he's going to do, he's on his knees and opening Rush's jeans. Even in the dim lighting he can see the wet spot on his underwear, and he licks at the fabric experimentally. Rush watches him avidly, and Young hears a sucked in breath, and then he's pulling out Rush's straining cock and wetting his lips. “Tell me when you're about to come,” he warns him, and then he's swallowing it down and setting up a fast-paced rhythm with his hand at the base. 

If someone were to walk in right now, they'd get quite the eyeful, he thinks. Their Colonel on his knees in front of their Chief Scientist, completely indecent, hard dick in his mouth. For some reason that makes this whole thing even better, and he flicks his tongue over the slit in Rush's head before picking up speed. It's not refined or controlled. It's fast and sloppy and needy, and anyone walking in on this would be able to tell Young loves it just as much as Rush does. God, he really hopes no one comes in. 

Rush is moaning and babbling above him, saying yes and Colonel and several curses and new variations on blasphemy, and Young lets it roll over him with an intense sense of satisfied pride. He's making Rush lose control like this, _he's_ the one who's responsible for that. 

“Colonel, wait, I'm going to—” And Young moves up to the tip to give one last hard suck, and then Rush is coming in his mouth with a throaty moan. Young laps at the sensitive head as he quickly swallows around it, and from the corner of his eyes he sees Rush's knees tremble. 

When he's done, he carefully tucks Rush back into his underwear before getting up to face him again. Only now does he realize that his own dick is still hanging out, and he quickly puts himself away as well. 

He really wants to kiss Rush again, so he does. He is half prepared to be shoved away, every time, but Rush lets him gently slide into his mouth, licks his own taste off Young's tongue with a contented hum. His arms wrap around Young's neck to hold him closer, and it's kind of slow and sweet, and entirely unlike anything Young had ever expected between them. 

When they part again, Rush looks completely wrecked. His face is flushed, his eyes look glazed over, his lips are bitten red and shiny with spit, and his hair is a mess, as if he's been clawing at it. Young's reasonably sure he doesn't look much better himself. 

He checks his watch, and is surprised to find only twenty-five minutes have passed. 

“We should get out of here,” he says softly, and brushes his hands through Rush's hair to make him look a bit more presentable. 

“Yeah,” Rush replies dazedly, before letting go of Young's neck and stepping to the side. 

When they walk to the exit, Rush bumps the back of his hand into Young's a few times. Young smiles and lets him. 

-

An hour later, they're back in the observation deck. He sits next to Rush as Eli and Chloe give a little speech about the movie they've picked out, and all he can focus on is Rush's body heat against the entirety of his left side. He's sipping a 'cocktail' Brody has made in honor of Movie Night. It's basically just his usual moonshine mixed with Becker's first attempts at jam. It's pretty good, actually, and he feels a sated warmth flow through his limbs. He's content, his people all around him, Rush at his side, and a small bowl of something that actually resembles popcorn in his lap. 

Eli has worked in some crude subtitles for the movies. Rush sometimes leans closer to him and whispers a more correct translation in his ear, and that must be his own cocktail hard at work, but overall Young thinks Eli's translations are perfectly effective for understanding the main plot and the two side stories. 

By the end of the movie, some people in the audience are sniffling, and when the credits roll someone starts clapping, until everyone is applauding and cheering at the screen. Eli and Chloe's eyes glitter happily. 

It's the first time Young really understands how the people on Novus must have felt. They're becoming a community, all of them. 

And they'll be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

She opens her eyes, and she doesn't feel any different. 

The Colonel, the science team, and Varro all welcome her back when she steps out of the pod, and all she can think to ask is, “How long was I in there?” 

“Thirty-one days,” Eli answers quickly. “How do you feel?”

“The same.” 

They go to the infirmary, and Rush and Eli take a swab of the inside of her mouth. When they compare the sample with the one from weeks before, Eli beams at her as Rush shows her the changes in her genetic code. It's just a few little letters on the screen, but it means it worked. She's healthy. She's not going to die a slow, horrible death anytime soon, and when it finally sinks in it feels like she's been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. 

She sits down hard on one of the infirmary beds, and stays quiet for a long moment. Rush looks at her quizzically, with the slightest hint of concern, and she remembers what Young told her, that this was all his doing. The next thing she knows, she's enveloping him in a full-body hug while blinking back tears. 

Rush freezes in her arms, but he doesn't push her away. “Thank you,” she says to him, and she means it with all her heart. She feels his arms come up awkwardly to pat her on the back a few times. 

When she steps back, she thinks he looks relieved, but also, maybe, a little bit touched. 

She makes the rounds telling everyone how grateful she is for their help, hugging and smiling and celebrating, and when she looks back she realizes Rush has left. 

“He doesn't do well with overt displays of emotion,” Young says with a fond little smile when she catches his eye.

She smiles back, and for the first time since she learned about her disease—no, for the first time since she set foot on Destiny, she truly feels like she is free. 

-

Later that day, Young walks into the control interface room to see Rush being hugged by Lisa Park. Greer looks on with a satisfied smile, and Rush's obvious discomfort with the whole situation makes Young grin before he even understands what's going on. 

After Greer leads Park out of the room, they're alone. Young bumps Rush's shoulder gently with his own. “So, that's the second time today I find you in someone else's arms. Should I be worried?” 

Rush gives him a long, disbelieving look, and Young snorts. “That was a joke, Rush.” 

He really has to teach the man to react more naturally to those. The silent staring is just disconcerting. 

“So what was that about?” he asks, gesturing at where Park and Greer disappeared through the doorway. 

“Oh,” Rush finally says. “I told her we could fix her eyesight with the modified stasis pod. She was rather enthusiastic about the idea.” 

Young furrows his brow in thought. “TJ's ALS and Park's burned eyes seem like two very different problems.” 

“Well, yes, obviously Lieutenant Johansen's disease was part of her genetic code, while Doctor Park's condition is due to environmental circumstances. But that actually makes it simpler to heal her; we can program the pod to focus on fixing her eyes, and it will use her genetic blueprint to rebuild them undamaged,” Rush explains. 

“That easy?” 

“Yeah, we'll need to work out the specifics, of course, but she can help with that.”

“And then you can finally put her to work again?” 

Rush gives him a slight frown. “She's been my second in command for months now, since right after we came out of stasis.” 

Young smiles. For all Rush's antisocial behavior, he really isn't that subtle about being a good guy sometimes. 

Rush sighs and drags his hand through his hair. “I just hope she won't rethink the position when she has her sight back. It's been quite nice having someone to take care of the interpersonal and bureaucratic hassles so I can just focus on doing my job.”

“Ah,” Young nods thoughtfully. He wouldn't mind having someone take over all the paper-pushing, day to day, mind-numbing crap that comes with being the commanding officer himself. 

Rush gives him a prompting look, and Young remembers why he came here. “Right. I'm going to use the stones to make my report to Homeworld Command, but I'll be back before dinner. Will I see you in the mess tonight?” 

Rush quirks his mouth. “You know these dinners in the mess hall don't constitute actual dates, right?” 

Young barks out a laugh. “You want a date, Rush?” 

Rush steps into his space and gives him a heated look. His hand lands lightly on Young's chest. “What I really want is to fuck you right where you stand, Colonel,” he murmurs quietly into his ear. 

Young feels his stomach drop and his ears go hot. “Jesus, you—” 

The door mechanism whirs, and Rush casually takes a step back. They're still standing closer than usual, Young thinks, so maybe that's why Eli's wide eyes flick between them uncertainly. Then the boy flushes and stammers something unintelligible. 

“What is it, Eli?” Rush says impatiently. 

“Uh, hi, you guys....I uh, wanted to ask if you'd spoken to Park yet?”

“Yes, we'll start working on the technical details this afternoon. If things go right we should be able to put her in tonight.” 

“Oh, okay, that sounds good.” Eli makes to walk out of the room, before turning back around. “You, uhm, you'll be careful, right?” 

Somehow Young gets the feeling it's addressed to both of them, and that it has nothing to do with Park. He has no idea how Eli found out, but it seems he has. 

“Yes, of course,” Rush sighs with annoyance in his voice, and Young is pretty sure it's because he's come to the same conclusion. 

“Alright, see you later then,” Eli blurts out, and with that, he disappears through the door. 

Rush rubs his brow and sighs again. “Fuck.” 

Young glances over at him. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.” It's awkward and sooner than he would've liked, but at least it's just Eli. He can be trusted to keep his mouth shut. Young has learned that very early on, under circumstances he tries not to think about anymore.

Rush drops his hand and gives him an unimpressed look. “Call me an optimist, but I was hoping for later.” 

Young gives him a rueful half-smile. “Yeah, me too.” 

-

Eli walks out of the control interface room with his head ablaze. Somehow he thought maybe he'd seen it wrong, maybe it was some sort of practical joke or maybe he'd been hallucinating or whatever, but when he'd walked into the control room it hit him with bright clarity. Young and Rush were standing way closer together than was necessary, and Young looked a bit hot under the collar, and God, he should've just radioed because he feels so freaking awkward now. 

In all honesty, part of the reason he is still making his documentary is because he likes knowing the little secrets people on board try to keep. But maybe he would've been better off not knowing this one, though. 

The day had started out awesome. Breakfast was almost-actual pancakes with real fruit, and way more importantly, TJ was back and completely cured. After they'd gotten her out of the pod, he'd had an hour to himself, so he reviewed some of the kino footage from yesterday. Movie Night had been a major success, and he and Chloe were thinking of making it a weekly thing. He wanted to cut together a small montage about their first one, to add to the documentary, when he'd come across footage taken by a kino overlooking the entire observation deck. He fast-forwarded through an hour of nothing, he and Chloe had been in the mess hall doing some last-minute prep work with Becker, but then some movement in the corner near the door caught his eye. He'd put the recording back on normal speed, and recognized the small, pixelated dark shapes in the corner of the screen as Colonel Young and Rush. They seemed to be taking in the room. A surge of happy pride had gone through him as he heard both men agree that he and Chloe had done a pretty good job with the observation deck. 

And then everything just sort of went haywire. By the time he realized that what he was looking at was not, in fact, a fight between the two of them, Young was getting down on his knees in front of Rush, hands at his jeans. And really, the sounds should've tipped him off way earlier, but how was it his fault that his first thought was that they were fighting? _Shit, pause, pause, delete!_ his mind had yelled at him, but the damage was done, of course. 

Rush and Young. _Rush_. And _Young_. Holy crap. How did that even happen?

At least it's a step up from wanting to kill each other, Eli thinks. But dear God, if they ever break up it's going to be a blood bath. He shakes his head and tries to push it to the back of his mind. They're going to cure Park first, and then, _maybe_ then he'll try to talk to Rush or Young. Or maybe he'll just keep his mouth shut and live with the awkward, because it's not really any of his business anyway. 

Ugh, if he dreams about this he's going to kick something. 

-

Young looks up when Rush sits down across from him. Tonight's dinner is protein paste with grilled vegetables, and he's grateful for the distraction. 

“Evening,” he greets Rush with a slight smile. He likes that Rush hasn't ever really stood him up for dinner. Maybe it's stupid, but having dinner with Rush is quickly becoming one of his better-loved habits on Destiny. He's starting to think of this as _their_ table, and he knows Rush would roll his eyes at him if he knew. For some reason that makes Young want to tell him more. 

Rush hums his reply around a piece of vegetable. 

“How was Homeworld Command?” he asks eventually. 

“Uneventful,” Young answers. “The good news is their budget remains intact, which means home visits can continue. The bad news is they're pretty sure the Lucian Alliance is planning something again, and they have no idea what.” 

Rush nods. “So basically, same old, same old.” 

Young shrugs. Pretty much, yeah. 

They eat in silence for a few more minutes, before Rush leans forward slightly. “We're going to put Doctor Park in stasis tonight.”

“Ah, yes, I'll be there,” Young says. “How long will she need to stay in the pod?” 

“Around a week, probably.” 

It feels like there is something unspoken hanging between them, but Young has no idea how to address it. He continues eating in silence. 

“You up for a game of chess after that?” Rush suddenly asks, and it's so unexpected, and it sounds so awkward, that Young can't stop the strong gush of warm affection flowing through his chest. 

He knows he probably looks dopey as hell when he smiles at Rush and says, “I'd like that.” 

Rush avoids his gaze while he finishes the rest of his food. 

-

Apparently chess is code for something else, because the moment he closes the door to Rush's quarters, the man is on him. He grabs at his jacket and kisses him, and all Young can think to do is to return the kiss as he is guided steadily backwards, deeper into the room. 

“I thought we were going to play chess,” he huffs when Rush shoves him onto the bed and climbs on top of him. 

Rush smirks at him. “That means I win.” He unzips Young's jacket and pushes it off his shoulders, and then his fingers are scrabbling at his black undershirt. Young helps him take it off, and watches as Rush's hand lands gently on the mostly healed burn on his chest. It will probably leave a slight scar, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Rush studies it quietly, and gives Young a troubled look. 

“What?” he asks, but Rush just shakes his head and pushes Young flat on the bed. He moves closer to bite a kiss into his throat, and Young lies back and lets the sensations wash over him. He's not entirely sure why, but Rush seems to like his neck. Young isn't complaining. 

Suddenly Rush is gone, and Young opens his eyes to see him rummaging through the drawers at the end of his bed. It's only now that he realizes how cold it is in here, as goosebumps break out over his skin.

“Shoes,” is all Rush says, and Young sits up to undo the laces on his boots. When they're off, he flips open the covers on the bed, and Rush shoots him a quick glance before tossing him a glass jar of something. Young catches it reflexively, and then nearly drops it when he realizes what it's for. Rush toes off his shoes and straddles him on the bed before kissing him deeply. Young wraps his arms around him and presses Rush closer, losing himself in the feeling of lips and tongue and rough beard against his own five o'clock shadow. 

Rush pulls back and takes his shirts off, and then grabs the jar from where it rolled beside him. “Have you ever?” he asks with a hoarse voice, and Young doesn't know exactly what he's asking, which specific part of it he's talking about, but either way the answer is no, so he shakes his head. Rush seems to understand, because he nods and pushes him back into the bed again. 

Rush trails a hand through Young's hair and cups his cheek as if he's something precious, something to be taken care of, and then presses a soft kiss into the corner of his mouth. Young isn't used to this, doesn't know how to react, but then Rush presses a second kiss onto his lips and gently slides his tongue inside his mouth, and Young decides to surrender. To let it happen and take it as it comes. The kiss is soft and slow, tender in a way Young hasn't been treated in too long, and when Rush breaks it, Young immediately longs for more. 

But then Rush bends over him to lick and bite down his neck, teasing at his chest, nipping at his stomach, and Young feels his erection press insistently against the confines of his pants. He's not entirely sure about what Rush is going to do, but so far the sex has been sufficiently mind-blowing that he's prepared to go along with it. And maybe part of him has been waiting for this to happen, for things to escalate between them. 

Rush drags his pants and boxers down his legs, and then Young is naked, cock straining up desperately. Rush's eyes flick over to his for a quick second, before he crouches in between Young's legs and bends down to lick a broad stripe up his dick. Young groans at the combination of physical sensation and visual input, and he sees Rush smirk. God, but he is falling for this man. Rush's eyes search for his again, a heated flash of _something_ behind them, before he slips his mouth over his cock. 

He sets up a slow-paced sucking rhythm, moving up and down his shaft easily, and Young lets his head fall back as he enjoys the mellow pleasure for a while. He doesn't notice Rush screwing the lid off the jar, but he tenses up when he feels a slick finger against his entrance. Rush rubs circles over it slowly, and Young remembers how hard he had come in that hotel room, how good it had felt when Rush moved that finger inside of him while sucking him off, and he forces himself to relax. 

It's as if Rush can tell when he's ready to be breached, and oh, of course, he actually _can_ , because when he slides his finger in, Young is ready for it. It feels intimate and slightly intrusive, but it's not bad at all. Rush takes his time, continuing the slow blowjob while moving his finger in and out at the same leisurely pace. Right when Young starts getting a bit impatient, Rush adds another finger, and this time Young definitely feels the stretch. 

It's only now that he really realizes what they're about to do, and in a small corner of his brain he's starting to have a minor panic attack, but then Rush rubs the pads of his fingers over that place inside him and flickers his tongue delicately against the head of his dick, and the pleasure crowds out his anxiously fluttering nerves. He groans, and he hears and _feels_ Rush moan around his cock, and oh God, yes. He wants this. He wants _Rush_ , and he wants Rush to do this. 

Rush opens and closes his fingers to stretch him, and then slips in a third, and Young can't hold back a breathless sound at that. It's starting to hurt a bit. Not real pain, not typical pain, but not comfortable at all. His erection loses some of its hardness, and Rush sucks a bit harder, a bit faster. He gently rolls his balls between the fingers of his other hand, and Young lets out a shaky noise as once again the build-up to his orgasm takes precedence over the unusual stretch in his backside. 

Rush slowly starts moving his fingers in and out of him, until he can almost say he's getting used to the feeling, and then he extricates them all and lets Young's cock slip out of his mouth with a wet sound. Young sucks in a breath, and then Rush's mouth is on his again, and he can taste his own arousal on Rush's tongue. He moans into the kiss, partly in protest because _they weren't done yet_ , but then he feels something slick pressing up against his hole and realizes it's Rush's dick, and he loses all capacity to process data while Rush pushes inside him. Fuck, Jesus, this is completely different, Rush is _everywhere_. Above him, _inside_ him. He pushes in slowly, steadily, and with great effort, judging from the way he's stopped kissing and is now just panting hotly against Young's lips. And then he's in, and Young feels so stretched, so full, and all he can think to do is to haul Rush's mouth down to his own again, to distract himself from the maelstrom of emotions this is forcing on him. 

Rush lets himself be kissed, allows Young to ravage his mouth and draw him close until they're both too out of it to hold anything back anymore. When he finally starts moving, Young can't contain the small noises that want to escape with each shallow thrust. His cock rubs against Rush's abdomen with every movement, and he wraps his legs around Rush to get him closer, even deeper inside of him. He hadn't accounted for the intimacy of this, the trust he would need to place in Rush, and now that they're here, he almost wants to cry with how good it feels. 

Slowly, Rush starts to build a stronger rhythm, a faster pace, and Jesus, they're really doing this. Rush is _inside of him_ , fucking him, and if anyone had told him that a year ago he would've laughed in their faces, but Rush is sliding into him faster now, a persuasive, sinuous rhythm inside and against him, and the reality of it leaves Young breathless and achingly hard. 

He hears himself, realizes the bitten off sounds of pleasure are coming from his own throat, and God, he needs... He desperately angles his hips to better catch the drag of Rush's abdomen against his dick. Suddenly Rush hits his prostate, and he realizes with intense clarity how close he is to coming. Young moans into Rush's shoulder, and wishes for more, more stimulation, more touch, and then Rush wraps his fingers around his cock and Young lets go. In just a few strokes he is arching up as his orgasm sweeps through him. His voice comes out in a broken and uncontrollable cry, and he feels himself clench hard and spasmodically around Rush. Distantly he notes his come spattering onto his chest and stomach, as Rush keeps driving into him, keeps holding him, until his own hips stutter and he throws back his head with a deep groan. 

Afterwards, Rush collapses on top of him and they lie there for minutes, breathing heavily. 

“Fuck,” Rush croaks eventually. 

“Yeah,” is all Young can think to say. He feels exhausted, wrung out in the best possible way. 

Rush pulls out, ties off the condom and tosses it into a corner. Then he uses one of his discarded shirts to wipe the mess off himself and Young. He pulls the covers over them and lies his head down on Young's chest, and the last thing Young thinks before drifting off to sleep is that maybe this won't end in disaster after all.


	15. Chapter 15

Weeks go by, and they slip into a rhythm that works. Every night, they find each other to touch, and more often than not that devolves into kissing and blowjobs or handjobs. Camile seems satisfied to know he and Rush are getting along again, and Young has told Eli that if he wants to talk about what he figured out, Camile can be trusted. He has no idea if Eli took him up on the offer. 

Their fresh food reserves are running a bit low, so Rush and his science team are looking into a way to make Destiny stop for a longer period near a bountiful planet, but for now they have to make do with Destiny's regular short stops. Other than that everything is going well. 

Park has been healed, and where before she spent most days in her quarters, suddenly it seems she is everywhere again. Eli and Chloe have managed to make Movie Night a weekly occurrence, and Inman has presented the crew with a simple but effective type of peppermint gum, which has had more of an impact on crew morale than Young could've predicted. 

So yes, they've settled into an easy rhythm, and Young thinks it's closer to happiness than he has been in a long while. 

-

“Colonel,” Rush greets the man who is looking out the front window with his back toward the bridge. As soon as he turns around Rush recognizes it's not Young at all. Right, Young is making his report to Homeworld Command today. “Telford.” 

“Rush,” Telford says with Young's voice. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, not even trying to keep the enmity out of his voice. 

“Ah, I suppose you haven't heard yet,” Telford says with a smug little smile that looks ridiculous on Young's face. “We've located another Icarus planet. With all the political discussions and the red tape we don't expect dialing in to Destiny for about a year or so, but it seemed like as good a time as any to ask Eli Wallace if he'd be willing to consult on the project in the near future.” 

Rush ignores the ill-concealed sneer, because his mind is stuck on the Icarus planet. That means resources, people...but also Telford, who will most definitely try to take over control of the ship at his earliest convenience. Earth has been so far from his mind since coming to Destiny, but evidently Homeworld Command still very much sees itself as a variable in all of this. He's not sure how to feel about this development. 

Telford seems annoyed by his lack of response, however, so Rush takes that as a small victory and sits down in the command chair. He runs a diagnostic on the short range sensor panels; not necessary at the moment, but it gives the impression of doing important work. 

“Right,” he says eventually, when he feels Telford's eyes boring into his skull. “Do you need anything else?” 

Telford narrows his eyes at him before stalking out of the bridge, and Rush triumphantly checks out Young's ass. Not that Telford can see him do it, but he's sure it would make the man distinctly uncomfortable if he knew. The thought pleases him viciously. 

-

“That seems like good news, sir,” Young says. 

“It is, it is,” General O'Neill replies. “But the chatter surrounding the Lucian Alliance is getting louder as well. We have no clue whether they're planning another attack on Earth, but I'm pretty sure nothing good will come of it if they find out about the planet we discovered.” 

Young nods. The Lucian Alliance seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Destiny. It isn't a big leap to think they might try to take over the new Icarus planet to dial the ninth chevron from there. 

They need a plan in case of another attack on the ship, that much is clear. 

-

That night, people seem both excited and tense. There's an odd atmosphere of expectancy in the mess hall. By now, everyone has heard about the new Icarus planet, and a year seems like a rather short time, seeing as they've spent nearly five years aboard Destiny already. But the desperation with which they'd needed the resources during the first year on board has lessened, especially since importing all the supplies from the Hong Kong planet. And new people aboard would mean change, possibly a lot of it. Not everyone seems to welcome the idea. 

Rush gives him a long look over the table, and Young returns it. 

“Hey,” Eli says, as he sits down next to Rush. Young and Rush both turn to look at him; no one ever sits at their table during dinner. The crew seems to have accepted their regular shared meals with an acquiescence ranging from skeptical to befuddled, and Young appreciates that immensely. 

Eli feigns ignorance. “So, Telford came up to me this afternoon, asked me if I'd be willing to swap with one of his scientists for a couple of weeks.” 

Young feels a surge of anger inside, Telford knows damn well he should have talked to him about that before going to Eli. “What did you say?” 

Eli widens his eyes and shrugs. “I had no idea what to say! I said I needed time to think about it.”

“What's there to think about? You're needed here, Mister Wallace,” Rush bites out. 

Eli gives Rush a fond little smile, and Young isn't entirely sure what that is about, but then he turns back to Young. “It would be nice to see my mom. Take care of her for a few weeks.” 

Young can tell Rush is about to scoff or say something rude and insensitive, so he kicks him in the ankle gently. Rush glares at him, but keeps his mouth shut. 

“Did Telford tell you why he wanted to swap you out?” Young asks. 

“Something about the new Icarus planet. He said it would only take a week and that I'd have the rest of the time off to be with my mom.” 

“He's up to something,” Rush says darkly. “Why else does he want one of his men roaming around on the ship for weeks?” 

Young nods. Telford is his friend, the first friend he'd made in the SGC program, and the only one of them who is left. They climbed the ranks together. They were assigned to the same team on their first day, and somehow Young thinks he will never not want to be his friend. 

But Telford wants Destiny, and just because circumstances have dictated that Young is the commanding officer on board now, doesn't mean that Telford has stopped wanting that. He is driven, to a fault, some might say, and Young doesn't put it past the man to undermine his command now that coming back aboard Destiny is becoming a real possibility for him. 

But forcing Eli to decline the offer won't make the problem go away. Telford will just approach someone else. 

“I won't stop you, Eli. As long as Rush thinks he can keep the ship afloat without you.” He shoots Rush an amused glance and this time the man does scoff. 

Eli laughs. “I'm going home for a few hours tomorrow, I'll ask my mom what she wants.” 

-

“We need to talk,” Rush says as soon as he enters Young's room. 

“Yes,” Camile says. “We do.” 

Young looks at him from where he's perched on his desk. Rush seems a bit taken aback by Camile's presence, but he shakes it off quickly. “This Icarus planet might turn out to be more trouble than it's worth.” 

Young sighs. He agrees. “But it's not as if we can do anything about it from here. They've discovered it, now we just need to deal with the fallout. What I'm most worried about right now is another attack by the Lucian Alliance.” 

From the corner of his eye Camile nods gravely. 

Rush is silent for a few seconds. Maybe he hadn't even considered them yet. “Yes, if they were to overpower Homeworld personnel and dial in, there's no way you would vent them all out into the atmosphere. They'll definitely take hostages with them.” Young isn't sure if he hears accusation in Rush's voice, or if it's just his imagination. 

“I was thinking we could install an emergency system in the gateroom. Some sort of knockout gas. That way we can incapacitate them the moment they breach us, and we won't be forced to kill any of our own.” 

Rush gives him a hard look. It takes Young a moment to recognize it as arousal, and he feels his ears go hot. He looks away quickly when Camile speaks. 

“That's quite brilliant, Everett.” She sounds genuinely impressed. 

“Thanks,” he says, feeling like a schoolboy. “Can your team rig something like that, Rush?”

Rush nods slowly, finally turning his gaze away. “I reckon Mister Brody and I can work something out.” 

“Good. Alright.” 

“But that still leaves us with David Telford,” Camile says. “When he comes aboard, and I think we can all agree that's an inevitability once Earth can dial in, he will not be happy with the way we've set up command.” 

Young nods. It's true, David doesn't see the need to recognize civilian authority on the ship, it will be one of the first things he'll get rid of if he can establish command over Destiny. 

“Technically speaking, this mission should be under his command. Your position as leader here is due to seniority on board, but if he were to come aboard with approval from Homeworld Command, he could force you to step down,” she says. “I recommend we start lobbying to officially put Destiny under your command, irrevocably. We've been here nearly five years, we'd have some rather solid grounds to ask for such a ruling.” 

“That sounds good, Camile. I'll think about it,” he says. Rush shoots him an unreadable look. 

“Alright, we'll talk again tomorrow,” she agrees. “I think I'll be returning to my quarters then. Everett, Nicholas.” He bids her goodnight, and she walks out the door. 

Rush is still staring at him. 

“What?” 

“You'll _think_ about it?” Rush sounds incredulous. “What, you're not sure you want to be in charge of this mission anymore?” 

Young sighs. It's not that, not at all. But at some point he's going to have to acknowledge that maybe he is not the best man for the job. Maybe the crew, maybe _Destiny_ simply deserves better. 

“I don't know, Rush. Don't you think the mission might be better served by someone else?” 

Rush gives him a look so full of outrage that Young almost laughs. “Oh yeah, it's bloody hilarious!” he bursts out. “Telford nearly killed us twice already, if you don't recall, and you plan on giving him full control of everything?! We'll be dead within the week!” 

“I didn't say I was planning on it. I'm just considering whether maybe, objectively speaking, we wouldn't all be better off with someone else at the head here,” he says calmly. “It wasn't that long ago you told me that yourself.” 

Rush throws up his arms dramatically. “Really? After everything that happened, all we've been through, you're thinking of just giving up? I thought—” he abruptly cuts himself off. 

“What?” Young prompts him, when it's clear Rush won't continue speaking of his own accord. “You thought what?”

Rush looks away. “I thought you believed in the mission. That you understood.” 

Young can't help the smile that is spreading over his face. Despite everything they've been through, and the fact they finally seem to be getting along, he had not expected Rush to react so vehemently to this. 

“Look, Rush, I never planned on not continuing the mission, in charge or not. It's not like we have a way off this ship even if we wanted to. I just asked for some time to think about whether there was someone else who could serve our purpose better. I kind of expected you to appreciate that, actually.” 

Rush shoots him a glare. “So this is just your elaborate way of fishing for compliments?” 

At that, Young finally lets himself laugh. He honestly can't think of a less likely person that strategy would work on. Rush just looks irritated. After a loaded moment, Young turns serious and gives him an intent look.

“I want this, Rush. I want this mission, and I want to be the one to lead it. Together with you, with our people. But I am not too big to acknowledge that this mission, what we're doing here, is more important than me. And I'll be damned if I let my ego get in the way of accomplishing what Destiny set out to do.” 

Rush steps closer to him and grabs his arm. Young glances down at it questioningly, and when he moves his eyes back up, Rush gives him a dark look. “I'm only going to say this once, and then you're going to shut up about it forever. I want _you_ here. No one else, _especially_ not Telford. You are the best man for the job, you've proven that by keeping us alive for the last five years.” 

So much positive feedback, all in one evening. Young is pretty sure he flushes. “A lot of that was actually your doing.” 

“Shut up and take the compliment, Colonel,” Rush says, before he leans in and kisses him hard. The hand on Young's arm squeezes until it's almost painful, and then Rush says, “I want you to fuck me tonight.” 

“Jesus Christ, Rush,” Young groans. “Do you _want_ me to have a heart-attack?” 

Rush steps back and strips his shirt off. Then he saunters over to the bed like he doesn't have a care in the world. “I already told you what I want. Now, the better question is, what are you going to do about it?” 

Young is on him before Rush can turn around. He grabs him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his neck. The angle is off, and Rush's hair gets in the way, so he spins Rush around and drags his face into a heated kiss. Rush wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him closer, licking and sucking at his lips and tongue before moving back to remove Young's shirt as well. 

They strip in a hurried frenzy and get onto the bed. Young rolls on top of Rush and breathes in his scent, his warmth. Holding himself up on his elbows, he brushes Rush's hair away from his face and lightly kisses his way inside his mouth. Rush lets him, and slides his hands over his back and shoulders. He loves that Rush allows him to go slow and soft like this. Somehow, he'd always thought Rush would be all hard angles and fast-and-rough sex, but he doesn't seem to mind this at all, unhurriedly enjoying touch, and tongue, and skin.

Then he accidentally bumps his erection into Rush's, and Rush moans into his mouth, and some of the urgency returns to his mind. 

“Do you have any,” he starts to ask, and before he can finish his question Rush pushes a condom and a packet of lube into his hand. Young has no idea where Rush gets these things, but he's glad for it. 

“Go slow,” Rush warns him, and Young shivers and presses another kiss onto his mouth. Rush bites softly at his lower lip, and when they move apart he turns over, folding his knees under himself. “'S easier,” he says by way of explanation, watching Young from the side of his eye. 

Young swallows and moves down. His hands glide lower down Rush's back until he reaches his ass. He doesn't really have any idea what he's doing, although he's thought about it enough over the past few weeks. He wants this, wants to be inside Rush, wants to make him feel as good as Rush had made him feel. 

He grabs the packet of lube, tears it open, and pours about half of it on three fingers. He trails them slowly down to Rush's hole. Rush looks and feels tense, muscles tight, and Young slowly massages the outer rim with his fingertips, like Rush had done to him that one time. 

“Relax,” he says softly, and instead of biting out a sharp comeback, Rush actually seems to listen to him. When he slips his first finger inside, he's taken aback by how warm and snug it is. Fuck, Rush wants him to put his dick in there. _Inside_ him. Jesus. 

Young bends forward to kiss at Rush's shoulders while moving his finger in and out slowly. He bites gently at the edge of Rush's shoulder blade when he adds a second digit. Rush lets out a quiet 'hmm' sound, and Young crooks his fingers downward to try and locate his prostate. A soft intake of breath lets him know when he finds it, and he rubs against it carefully. Rush moans quietly, and Young feels his own cock twitch against his stomach. God, he already loves this. 

He reaches his other hand lower, past Rush's balls, and is a bit surprised to find him fully aroused, dick hard and leaking between his legs. Keeping his hand pressed lightly against his erection, he inserts a third finger, and it's getting really tight now. Rush stays quiet as Young slowly resumes pushing in and out again. 

“You good?” Young asks, worried he might be hurting him. 

“Yeah, keep going.” Rush's voice sounds strained and breathless, but his eyes are closed and his face looks calm except for the flush on his cheeks and the way he bites his lip every now and again. 

He continues rubbing against his prostate, small circles, and with his other hand he gently squeezes Rush's cock. When he softly drags his fingers over the head, Rush moans something unintelligible, and Young smiles. It's quite a beautiful sight, Rush on his knees, surrendering to the sensations, giving himself up to Young like this. He's always appreciated the hard physicality of Rush, even in the moments he hated the man. The way he moves and speaks, sharp and dangerous and quick like a hawk. But right now he can't deny that this softer side to Rush is equally appealing. Rush looks almost innocent, although the effect is somewhat ruined by the obviously sexual nature of the situation.

He spreads his fingers slightly, stretching Rush out just that bit more. Rush chokes back a heated curse, and then Young is there, he wants to, now. When he takes out his fingers, Rush makes a whiny noise that goes straight to Young's balls. He fumbles the condom on quickly, and squeezes the rest of the lube onto his dick. When he grabs himself and lines up against Rush's entrance, he feels a sudden stab of fear that it won't fit. That he'll hurt Rush.

“Are you sure?” 

“Fuck, just _do it_ ,” Rush mumbles impatiently, and then Young is pushing in, and he understands how tough this must have been for Rush that other time, because all he wants to do is go deeper, push in to the hilt, to feel more of this tight, plush, heat around his cock. Rush groans low in his throat and pushes back, and then he's there, he's all the way in, and fuck if he doesn't feel like he could come from just this. 

He looks down, sees Rush's flesh stretched around the base of his dick, and curses. Slowly, slowly, he pulls back, until only the tip is still inside, and then he pushes back in again gently. The pressure is unbelievable, almost unbearably good. He leans forward to bite at Rush's shoulder, and the startled gasp it elicits makes him feel like a god. Rush asked him for this. Rush offered up his body and trusts Young to take care with it, and he feels his stomach flutter and his heart clench at that thought. It's intoxicating. 

“Christ, Rush, you're amazing,” he breathes out reverently, and circles his arms around Rush's chest. When he pulls him up to lean against his torso, Rush makes a noise so obscene he almost loses it right then. From here he can hook his chin over Rush's shoulder, see his flushed chest, his peaked nipples, and the wet tip of his straining erection. 

Holding his left hand on Rush's stomach to keep him balanced, he wraps the fingers of his other hand around Rush's cock and starts stroking him. At the same time he slowly pushes into him from behind, and Rush throws his head back against his shoulder. “ _Fuck, yes_!” 

He's building up a steady rhythm now, moving his fist on Rush's dick in time with his hips, and it's almost too much, he's going to come too soon.

“God, I want— _Young_ , I—! Fuck, don't stop!” Rush pants brokenly. He steadies himself by grabbing hold of Young's arm on his chest, and rolls his hips back in time with his thrusts. 

Young speeds up his movements, his hand is gliding quicker over Rush's dick, and the sounds Rush is making are taking him right up to the edge. Jesus, Rush is...in this moment, Rush is goddamn _everything_ , and the jumbled words in the back of his mind want to slip out of his mouth. Young bites his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret, sliding into Rush harder, faster, and then Rush cries out and everything around him is clenching in seething hot pleasure. He sees Rush's come spurt onto the sheets, tangible proof of what they're doing, what Rush _let him do_ , and then he's coming himself, inside Rush, pumping his hips until the last shocks of his orgasm have passed. Everything is sensitive, and his chest feels like it's about to burst with all he's feeling right now. 

Rush sags back against him, only making a vague sound of protest when Young pulls his spent cock out. He lays Rush down on the clean side of the bed, and then forces himself to get up. He quickly disposes of the condom, and uses his increasingly ragged hand towel to get the worst of the stains off the sheets. Then he lies down behind Rush, and throws the covers over them both. 

It's still early, but he's got that sated sleepiness that follows a good orgasm crashing over him. He spoons up closer to Rush, and presses a kiss into his neck before slinging an arm over his naked waist. 

Rush threads his fingers through Young's, and he smiles drowsily. 

He falls asleep thinking the words he'd almost said out loud.


	16. Chapter 16

He wakes up with a gasp, heart racing in his chest. He is sitting up straight in bed. The sweat on his body is already cooling, causing his flesh to stand up in tight little goosebumps, as his breath rushes out in a quivering exhalation. 

“Rush?” Young asks dazedly from his side, and for a second Rush sees the image of the mangled man from his dream copied over the real one. He shudders.

“I'm fine, go back to sleep,” he says shakily, and Young turns slightly and sleeps on. 

Rush tries to calm his erratic heart rate and imagines letting the visions from his dreams float away like helium-filled balloons. It's something Gloria tried to teach him when she first got sick. It doesn't work, it never did, and he stifles the sob that is trying to work its way out of his throat. He feels overwhelmed by grief and sorrow, even though Young is right next to him, breathing and alive. 

Eventually, he curls himself around Young's warm, sleeping body, and forces his eyes shut until he falls asleep again. 

-

Gloria looks at him from across the table, and she gives him a warm smile. 

“Nicholas,” she says, and she pours him a cup of tea. Her blond hair catches the sunlight in ways that make rainbows refract into his eyes, and he squints at it. 

“I love you,” she says, and the skin on her face cracks like expensive porcelain. Blood drips from the cracks, but she smiles again. He wants to scream, but his voice won't come out, and she grabs his hand gently. Her fingers are bleeding too, blood pools around her nail beds, and his first panicked instinct is to pull away. She dissolves into a cascade of blood and bone and plasma, and this time he does scream. 

“Rush!” 

Mandy looks on from the other side of the room. Her eyes are gaping red holes, and she gives him a shy smile when she sees him stare. “Nick,” she says quietly. 

“ _Rush!_ ” Young shouts, and he's in bed, on Destiny. It's dark, and Young is holding his shoulders. 

“I'm up,” Rush says, as he tries to push him away. Young lets him, and moves back to the other side of the bed. 

“Bad dream?” 

Rush nods. It's the second one tonight. Nothing like his usual nightmares. No Nakai, no drowning. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Young asks eventually. 

He shakes his head, and then grabs his phone to check the time. 03:38 AM. Too early to get up. To roam the empty corridors with nothing but the ghosts in his head to keep him company. 

He looks over at Young and sees his eyes glint in the dark. “C'mere,” Young says, voice rough with sleep. 

Rush doesn't even think about it, he scoots closer to Young and lets the other man wrap his arms around him. With his face pressed up to Young's neck, he finally feels some of the horror from his nightmare drain away. When had this become safe? When did Young start smelling like comfort? 

“I'm glad you're here,” Young mumbles into his hair, and he feels the warmth, the care, the relief that Young is feeling. It feels almost like love. 

He drifts back to sleep with a frown on his face. 

-

“Nick!” she laughs, and she wraps him in a hug. “I've missed you.” 

“Mandy,” he hears himself say, leaning into the fragile curve of her body. “I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be silly,” she says as she steps back. Her delicate face is lined with worry. 

Gloria is in the next room. He knows she's alone, and she's dying. He should go over there, he has to help her, but his feet are nailed to the ground. Literally. Big iron spikes through his shoes and his flesh, into the wooden floor. A small puddle of congealed blood surrounds him. Gloria is crying quietly, and Mandy looks over at the doorway. She gives him a pitying look. 

“You can't help it.” 

He doesn't understand, and helpless tears gather in his eyes, and then the room goes quiet and he knows she's dead. Gloria is dead, and she died alone, and it's his fault. He feels powerless and utterly alone, as Mandy watches his heart break with a pained sort of sympathy.

Suddenly her nose is bleeding, and she looks at the red smear on her fingers. “Ah,” she says. “I have to go.” She disappears into the other room, and then she's calling his name. Her voice is scared, and he can hear her choking. He needs to get to her, to save her, but his feet aren't moving. The nails are still keeping him in place, no matter how hard he tries. When everything goes silent in the other room, he feels more empty tears spill onto his cheeks. 

“Rush,” Young says softly, and he's beautiful. Glowing and perfect and dressed in white. “It's okay.” He embraces him with his wide arms, and Rush collapses into his chest while sobs rack his body. 

At first he thinks the cooling wetness on Young's shirt is from his crying, but when he opens his eyes he realizes it's not tears at all. It's blood, all over, and he's looking into a gaping hole the size of a cannonball. He can see into Young's chest cavity, can see his heart where it's ripped to shreds. The remains of it still pulsate weakly. 

“No!” he yells, but Young just looks at him with a calm pity. “ _No_!” 

He wakes up for the third time that night, and his eyes are wet. He breathes in raggedly, and reaches for his phone with trembling fingers. Young snuggles up to his back. 05:23 AM. This isn't working. 

He carefully grasps Young's arm and slides out from under it. Young mumbles something in his sleep, but doesn't wake up when Rush gets out of bed. He dresses quickly, silently, and slips out of the room. 

_This isn't working._

-

He wakes to the sound of his door whirring closed. Rush is gone, his body heat on the bedding already waning. Young frowns sleepily. He wonders if something happened, maybe some emergency that Rush was needed for. But he would've heard the radio if that was the case. 

Rush had been sleeping restlessly, though. He'd been tossing and turning, and when he woke up in the middle of the night he seemed to have had a pretty bad dream. It was unsettling to see him like that, so shaken and scared. He's never seen Rush wake up from a nightmare before. Young knows he's been haunted by them ever since being taken by the Nakai, but Rush usually sleeps quite peacefully when they're together. 

He decides he'll check in on Rush in a little bit, when the man's had some time to calm down. He sets his alarm for an hour and a half later, and decides to catch a bit more sleep while he can. 

-

“Hey,” Young says when he walks into the control interface room. 

“Morning,” he greets back casually. 

Young looks around to make sure no one is near, and reaches for his wrist. “You okay?” 

Rush feels Young's emotions. The worry, and the affection, and the satisfied happiness bubbling beneath it all, and he has to keep himself from physically pulling away. “Yeah, fine. Tired.” 

Young gives him a dirty grin, and Rush sends him a reproachful look as he slips his hand out of Young's grip. He grabs his notebook from his pocket and opens it on the page with his latest notes. 

“I've been thinking about what you said, that knockout gas in the gateroom. We have most of the necessary chemicals on board to synthesize halothane. A bit old-fashioned, but it'll do the trick. The only thing we don't have is bromine, but we can pick that up from a planet anywhere. It shouldn't be too hard to get.” 

Young quirks his eyebrow. 

“What?” he asks, impatience tinting his voice. 

“Sounds good,” is all Young says. “You wanna go get some breakfast?” 

“Yeah, later,” he says distractedly, as he flips through his notebook. He taps his stubbed pencil against his lips. “I have some ideas on how to arrange for an extended drop from FTL, I want to get them down on paper first.” 

“Fine,” Young says, like he's humoring him, before turning to make his way out of the room. “I'll see you later.” 

Rush stares after him until Young disappears around the corner. He knows he can't keep doing this. The nightmares were a wake-up call, a warning. Yesterday was a mistake, it made things between him and Young too real. Too close. If he keeps this up, he's going to start caring too much about Young, and then he'll lose him like he's lost everyone before him, and that will...distract him. Possibly to the point where he might make a terrible mistake, perhaps even one that could lead to Destiny's downfall. 

He doesn't want that to happen. He doesn't want any of that to happen. So he takes the warning.

He has to put a stop to this before it goes too far. 

-

“It's just, she's been feeling lonely, and I'm worried...” Eli's voice tapers off into silence. 

Young nods. He understands. He still remembers the way her condition had worsened before she had known where the Air Force had taken her son. How she'd perked right up after visiting the Destiny and finding out how important Eli's work was. 

“Telford wanted me to go for six weeks, but I've decided to just go for two, though.” 

“That's good. Two weeks is great.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Eli says, clearly uncomfortable. “I'm, uh, going to leave tomorrow morning then. You'll have someone keep an eye on whoever Telford sends into my body, right?” 

“Of course, Eli, don't worry about that. You just take good care of your mother.” 

“Thanks,” Eli says again. “I will.” He gives Young a small smile and wishes him goodnight before stepping back out into the corridor. 

Young sighs and bends back over his paperwork. Not only will they have to cope without Eli on board for two weeks, but he'll also somehow have to keep track of whatever Telford's man tries to do during that time. It's very possible the person Telford sends into Eli's body is just a scout, someone to figure out the lay of the land, to find out where the loyalties lie. It could also be something more nefarious. He's still not sure if Telford is hatching a scheme or not. 

That's not all that's making him feel so on edge, though. Something is off. Maybe it's just that he hasn't seen Rush since that strangely closed off conversation this morning. 

He should've expected it, actually. 

After that first time, when Rush had...taken him, he'd felt sensitive and awkward and vulnerable. It had been amazing, but he hadn't been prepared for the emotions that had come with it. Rush had given him his distance, some time to come to terms, and that night he'd kissed him so hard his lip was sore for days. Then they'd jerked each other off against the wall of his quarters, and everything had been okay again. 

For weeks he had hoped for a repeat of that night, for Rush to fuck him again, or the other way around, but Rush had seemed happy coming in his hand, or his mouth, and Young couldn't really complain about that either. It worked for them. 

Yesterday seemed to have been some sort of turning point, though. If he was completely honest, he'd never expected Rush to choose him above anyone else as commander of Destiny. In hindsight, he understands what a big deal it must've been for Rush to hear him say he wanted the mission to succeed so much he was willing to give up being its leader. That they actually _are_ standing side by side, fighting toward the same goal. Together. That has to be why Rush let Young take him last night. Because he finally believed him. Believed he could trust him enough. The thought sets off tiny buzzing fireworks in his chest. 

Young remembers how he'd felt after allowing Rush inside like that. Realizing he trusted Rush enough to do that, and then finding out how good that made him feel, how much he really wanted that. Frankly, it had scared him a little. More than a little. 

He imagines Rush, with his social ineptitude and his sky high, enforced steel walls of self-protection, is experiencing it all twice as hard. 

Everything is about control with that man, and for him to trust Young like that...if that doesn't constitute a complete loss of control, Young doesn't know what would. 

So yeah, he could've seen this coming. He sighs and rubs his brow. He should probably just give Rush some time to figure this out for himself. 

-

The knock on his door isn't unexpected, but it still kicks Rush's heart rate up. He lets Young in, and moves back awkwardly, keeping a few meters of distance between them. 

“Colonel,” he says eventually, when it seems Young is content to just stand there watching him. 

“Rush.” 

The silence stretches out between them again. 

Young sighs. “I was going to let you come to grips with this yourself...but then I remembered who I was dealing with, and this seemed easier.”

It sounds like Young has come to a conclusion of his own. Undoubtedly it will be just close enough to the truth to be irritating and just far enough from the truth to be entirely unhelpful. 

“This?” he asks warily. 

Young gives him one of those small smiles. It makes him look years younger. “You know, offer some touch. Relieve you of any tension you may have accumulated during the course of the day?” 

And Rush can't deny to himself how much he wants that. He's gotten accustomed to it. Perhaps that's a shabby excuse, but it's true. The everyday contact, the platonic touching, the closeness of offered comfort. The sex. He hadn't fully realized how much he'd missed those things before, but now that he knows, every fiber of his being yearns for more. And he can't deny that regular orgasms with Young have done wonders for the state of his mind and body. He'd almost forgotten what a powerful stress reliever sexual release could be. 

And perhaps if it's that, _just_ that, he won't have to give everything up. Perhaps he can allow himself this much. 

Because it would be an utter waste to lose that. Who could've predicted they'd be so compatible in bed? Young is everything he never knew he wanted in a sex partner. Strong and rough and gentle and receptive, a perfect juxtaposition of overwhelming pleasure. He doesn't want to give that up. 

Perhaps he doesn't have to.

He makes the decision intuitively, to redirect everything into _this_ , into passion and sex, and he practically slams Young into the wall before conquering his mouth with a hard kiss. 

Young grunts into it, and Rush dips his hands under Young's shirt, skimming the warm skin on his sides, and it feels good, _right_. Young's tongue is pushing against his insistently, pressing back into Rush with equal fervor. Young's hands are already working on opening their trousers, and the cold air of the room hits Rush's cock when Young pulls him out. 

Rush bites heatedly at Young's lips, turning them redder and wetter, before moving on to his jaw. The slight stubble against his lips is making them raw and sensitive, and he feels a spike of arousal when Young tips his chin up to expose more of his throat to him. Young closes his hand around both their cocks, pressing them together, and Rush sucks a kiss into the vulnerable skin over his thrumming heartbeat. 

“Shit, Rush,” Young groans, and then he's moving his hand around them, stroking, and the double sensations that spill into Rush make his head spin. Rush scratches his nails into Young's shoulders and Young's breath hitches, he can feel it under his mouth as much as he can hear it. This is good, this is lust and arousal and needing to come, and he keeps himself from talking, keeps his mouth plastered to Young's neck, sucking at the skin, while Young works them both toward release. 

He's spurred on by Young's feelings, shares the build-up to orgasm, and when Young trips over the edge and spasms against him, Rush comes almost violently hard as well. 

When he gets back to himself, still panting wetly against Young's throat, he pulls back to observe the mess they've made. Young looks down at his hands, covered in both their come. Rush steps back to hand him a towel, and then zips himself back up. 

“Thanks,” Young says, as he cleans off quickly, and efficiently tucks himself away. Rush can't help but notice the dark kiss mark on Young's throat. Fuck, he hadn't even realized that's what he was doing. He likes how it looks on Young, how it marks his territory, and he needs to stop this train of thought. 

“You may want to zip up your jacket before going back,” he suggests with a smirk instead. That's better. It's good, because while it keeps things sexual, it also clues Young in to the fact that he's not interested in spending the night together. 

Young touches his neck and grimaces. “You're like a damn vampire, Rush.” 

Rush flicks his eyes up to Young's and he quirks an eyebrow. 

“Don't make a suck joke, please. That will seriously hamper my ability to have sex with you,” Young says with a groan. It startles a snort out of Rush. 

“Right,” he says disbelievingly, and before he realizes what he's doing he moves forward to zip up Young's jacket. 

Young grins and leans closer to press a dry kiss onto his lips. It's strange, because it feels innocent, and that makes it anything but. Before Rush can figure out how to react, before he can turn away from it, Young steps back and says, “Goodnight, Rush.” 

“Night,” he hears himself mumble back, and with a final look over his shoulder, Young leaves him in his quarters. 

As Rush brushes the fingertips of his left hand over his lips, he wonders if he just made a tremendous miscalculation.

-

Three days later, Rush and his team figure out how to get Destiny to drop out for an extended period of time. Young hears the good news in the control interface room. Volker and Brody seem particularly proud that they've accomplished this without Eli's presence. He sends Rush a congratulatory grin, but Rush is frowning down at his console in intense concentration. 

“Right now we can only choose between Destiny's automated timeclock, and a period of exactly twenty-eight days and fourteen hours,” Volker says. 

“Why?” 

Volker shrugs helplessly. “We only just found something that should work, we don't really know why or how yet.”

“We'll also have to plan the extended stay in advance, we can't just tell Destiny to hang back once we're already out of FTL,” Park adds. 

Young nods thoughtfully. “That's not a problem, though, is it?” 

“No, not really,” Volker answers. “We can use our long-range sensors to determine the best place to drop out, somewhere with lots of stargates, and planets that fall within the right parameters for life support.” 

“Good. Any viable candidates yet, Rush?” 

Finally Rush looks up from his console. “Not yet, Colonel.”

“Alright. Well. Keep me posted,” Young says, before walking out of the control room. 

-

Young lies back on his bed with a frown. 

Something is going on with Rush. He's acting weird and cagey, and it is a harsh reminder of how he used to feel about the man before...all this. The fucker better not be hiding something again. Whatever it is, something is clearly going on. And he can't even ask Eli to keep an eye on Rush this time, because the kid is still on Earth. Luckily the guy Telford has sent, an astrophysicist named Hines, hasn't been very troublesome. He mostly talks to Volker and Brody, and he doesn't seem to mind James escorting him everywhere. Maybe Telford picked the wrong man to infiltrate Destiny, maybe Hines has something up his sleeve. He trusts Greer and James to stay on top of him, though. 

No, Young's main problem right now is Rush. His mood swings are hard to miss, he seems to switch between standoffish politeness and sex-starved nymphomania at the drop of a hat. 

At first he thought Rush was just keeping him at a distance when other people were around, but now he's starting to think there's more to it. They haven't slept in the same bed for nearly a week. As soon as they're alone, Rush is on him, kissing and rubbing and licking until they are both flushed and sated. But now it's as if all their touches are purely sexual, and the easy atmosphere they've been building between them seems to have evaporated to a thin sheen of what it was a week ago. 

The thing is, Young isn't sure if he's overreacting. Maybe he is just being paranoid, because it's not as if Rush is avoiding him. It's not as if Rush didn't _just_ leave his chambers all hazy and relaxed from a very reciprocal orgasm. It's possible Young is getting a bit too clingy after the sex they had last week, when Rush let him... It had been different, more intimate, more emotional. Maybe he's latching on to a problem that doesn't exist, or putting an unreasonable claim on Rush. He knows from unfortunate experience that his judgment can become somewhat clouded in these situations. 

He sighs. He isn't certain enough that anything is actually going on to call Rush on it. And even if he was, he would hesitate, because Rush does not react well to being cornered. 

But Young is starting to feel unsettled, insecure. Worried that he might be taking this whole thing more seriously than Rush is. He's not asking for declarations of love, for promises of forever, for flowers and romance. But he likes Rush being there, next to him. He likes knowing he isn't alone, that he can turn to Rush for company, or even support, when he needs it. He wants to trust Rush, and have Rush trust him. If they can figure that out, he knows they'll be unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with. And they're so close to that, he can feel it. 

He rubs at his brow. A deep headache is throbbing behind his left eye. All he knows for sure is that he doesn't want to lose this. He can't go back to how things were before, how alone he was before. Not now that he knows what it can be like, with Rush.


	17. Chapter 17

Rush thinks the nightmares are lessening, although he can't say with absolute certainty. He still wakes up panting and covered in sweat once, twice, every night, but the nightmares are starting to blend together and that's better. 

It's hard, much more difficult than he'd anticipated, to continually ignore Young's confused looks and retreat to his own quarters after sex. Because every single time it happens, a large part of him wants to stay. He has to remind himself several times a day that he _needs_ to create this space, this distance. Now, before things go too far and he becomes emotionally invested. 

Being able to feel Young's emotions isn't really helping his situation either. More and more often he feels unhappy confusion spilling from Young when they touch, and while he tries to ignore it, it sends unpleasant twinges of guilt through his gut. And it's different, this way. He'd thought the sex, the physical release, was what had made him feel calmer and more focused these past few weeks, but without the platonic touching it doesn't seem nearly as effective. Perhaps it's time to end this experiment altogether; go back to Camile for the evening handshake and call this whole thing with the Colonel a bust. It would be the kind thing to do, for Young. He would already have done it if he was a better man. 

When Eli had come back, two days ago, his eyes had flicked uncertainly between him and Young, before shooting them both a questioning look. Of course, they had ignored it. But it isn't a good sign that even Eli noticed that something is off between them. 

Suddenly something pulls him out of his own head. A sound that isn't a sound, a low humming that thrums through his bones, sets his teeth on edge. He hasn't ever experienced anything like it, and it's so insistent he barely has place for other thoughts anymore. 

“Colonel Young?” he says into his radio. 

It takes a few seconds for his radio to crackle to life, and Rush checks his phone for the time. 00:21. _“Yeah, what's up, Rush?”_

Rush frowns. “You don't hear that?” 

_“This is Scott. What's going on? What is that?”_

-

Young looks at the smooth white machine floating in front of them. It hadn't taken them long to figure out the mysterious noise only Rush and Scott could detect was emanating from the Lii device they'd brought on board. While it has been inactive for the past few months, it's obviously working right now. The screen on the front side, or what he thinks of as the front side, is glowing a suspicious lime green color. 

“I don't trust it,” he says darkly. 

Scott gives him a confused look. “They weren't supposed to come out of stasis for months, something must've happened,” he says. 

“Well, we'd better pick up their call, Colonel, because I can't focus on anything with this buzzing in my head.” 

Young looks at Rush. He can't hear a thing. “Is it really that bad?” 

“It's bloody awful,” Rush says with a grimace. Scott nods with a frown. 

“Okay, so, do I just...put my hand on there?” Scott asks. 

“Your guess is as good as mine, Lieutenant,” Rush answers. 

Young gives him a nod, and with a tiny shrug Scott presses his fingertips against the screen. 

Young's eyes widen when Scott's fingers melt into the screen until they are sunken halfway into the machine. The glow from the screen appears to travel under his skin, casting everything around them in haunting shadows. Scott's eyes flutter closed, and Young sees an edge of green light from under his eyelashes. 

“Whoa,” he says. 

Rush observes it silently. 

After a few minutes, Scott pulls his hand out of the device. “We have a problem. It's the blue aliens, they found the Lii, and they're on their way to us.”

“The Nakai?” Young asks, casting a worried frown at Rush. Rush continues focusing on Scott, though. 

“Yeah, they came aboard their ship, interrogated them. They used that triangular device, and the Lii had no defenses against them. They know our course now, where we're going for the foreseeable future. They're coming.”

“Can't we just alter our course?” 

Rush gives Young a look he can't interpret. “Of course, although we won't know what we might miss if we do. And we won't find any stargated planets if we drift too far from Destiny's planned route.” 

“What about our head start? I mean, we're months ahead of them,” Scott says. 

Rush shakes his head. “We don't know how fast their ships can actually go. Destiny's FTL is of much older design than theirs. There's a good chance they're faster than we are, even with our recently enhanced drives.” 

Young frowns. The details of the report on their Lii encounter are still reasonably fresh in his mind. “The reason the Lii know Destiny's course is because they've seen it from you, right?” he says to Rush. “You need to figure out exactly how far ahead you knew our course when you were there. The Nakai could ambush us anywhere between the Lii ship and that point, so we better hope it's not too far ahead.” 

Rush gives him a complicated look, but nods. Turning to Scott, he asks, “Did you ask about a cure for us, Lieutenant?” 

Scott looks a bit dubious before answering. “Yeah, they showed me the neural interface chair and you. I suppose that means I'm going to have to sit in that thing sometime in the near future, huh?” The trepidation in his voice is hard to miss. 

Rush raises his eyebrows at Young, and he concedes with a sigh. Rush and that fucking chair. “It looks that way, Scott.” 

-

He's not sure what compels him to go to Young that night. Why he cups Young's face in his hands and kisses him almost tenderly. Why he slides his fingers out of Young's hair before things turn more sexual between them. But as he makes his way back to his own quarters through the empty corridors, he thinks it feels like goodbye. 

-

The next morning Young finds himself in the neural interface room. Scott is sitting in the chair. Rush is standing by the console and Chloe is at his shoulder, worriedly looking on. TJ and Eli are on the other side of the room, and Greer and Camile stand in the door opening. Everyone is tense. 

“Calm down, Lieutenant Scott. We're just going to take a look at your brain. I won't do anything unless I'm entirely certain of what I'm doing,” Rush says. 

Young feels something akin to hope spread through his body. Rush taking the time to put Scott at ease feels like such progress for him, and despite the recent uneasiness between him and Rush, he feels glad. Last night was...odd. Not bad, not at all, but something about it had deeply unsettled him.

Scott's eyes flick over to Young's. He looks anxious, but controlled. “You're in good hands, Scott.” He sends him a reassuring smile, and then he gives a small nod at Rush. 

The metallic bolts click into place at Scott's temples with a loud _snick_. Rush and Chloe bend closer to the console, and then Rush huffs out an exasperated breath. 

“What?” 

“I've been working under the assumption it would be nearly impossible to tell the altered parts from our original brain,” he says. Young remembers the frantic chatter between him and Eli when they had separated Ginn and Doctor Perry from Chloe's consciousness. 

“And?” 

“And that assumption was entirely faulty. It's in fact clear as day. The chair recognizes the altered bits as non-human, and wants to isolate and destroy them. It should be nearly as simple as the press of a button.” He turns to Chloe. “Pay attention here, Miss Armstrong. You're going to have to do this on your own when it's me in the chair.” 

“Yes,” she says with a determined nod. 

“Rush, wait,” Young says. He can't deny the chair has been useful on occasion, but he will never forget what happened to Franklin. “You're absolutely sure?” 

Rush gives him a curt nod. “Sure enough that I'll undergo the exact same treatment, as soon as Lieutenant Scott is out of the chair.” 

A year ago, that wouldn't have been good enough for him. But things are different now, _they_ are different now, and he gives Rush the go-ahead. The moment he does, he realizes they'll need to keep open the lines of communication with the Lii. They'll need one person to stay unchanged. Rush is taking care of Scott right now, which means, if this works, Rush will be their only way of communicating with them. It's too late to say something now, though. The deletion is already in progress, and they have no way of knowing what will happen if Rush suddenly interrupts it. 

It takes less than a minute, and then the bolts retreat and Scott is waking up again. 

“Matt? How are you feeling?” Chloe is at his side immediately. 

Scott gives her a soft smile. “Good. I'm fine. I don't really feel that different.” He looks over at Rush. “Are you sure I'm back to normal?” 

“Do you feel Miss Armstrong's emotions right now?” Rush says, his eyes resting on where Chloe is holding Scott's hand between her own. 

Scott looks down, and then back up. “No,” he replies. 

“Marvelous,” Rush says, and moves away from behind the console. “Then, if you wouldn't mind.” He motions for Scott to get out of the chair. 

Young reaches out to touch Rush's arm. “Wait,” he says firmly. “You can't.” 

“What do you mean, I can't?” Rush bristles.

“You're our only means of communicating with the Lii right now. Just last night they sent us a warning that might have saved all of our lives. We can't risk changing you back. Not right now.” 

Rush pulls away angrily from his grip. “And you didn't think to mention this earlier?” _Shit_. 

“Rush.” 

“You didn't think it was necessary to consult with me, to discuss this with Lieutenant Scott and me _both_ , before deciding _I_ should be the one left with this...this handicap?!” 

“Rush, calm down.” 

“Don't you bloody tell me to calm down!” Rush shouts, and the betrayal on his face is much brighter than the anger. _Fucking goddammit_. This whole thing is spinning out of his control fast. 

“Everyone, _out_ ,” Young orders, and his tone of voice clears the room in ten seconds flat. Eli sends him a worried glance over his shoulder before he closes the door, and then he and Rush are alone. 

Rush is breathing heavily, shoulders locked in tension, fists balled. He keeps his face angled to the side as if he's been punched. 

“Rush,” he tries again, more gently this time. 

“Fuck you, Colonel,” Rush says. “Is this some kind of revenge?” 

“No, of course not! Why would I—what are you even talking about?” 

Rush sends him a calculating glare, and Young feels like an asshole. 

“Look, I didn't plan this, and I get why you're angry. I didn't realize until after Scott came out of the chair that we'd lose all ability to communicate with those aliens if we cured you too.” 

Rush is looking to the side again, and that's for the best, because Young isn't sure he's telling the truth anymore. Shit, he'd realized they'd still need a way to stay in contact with the Lii just as Rush engaged the deletion program, and he's not entirely sure he could've been in time to stop it. Maybe subconsciously he let it happen because he's been worried that Rush is pulling away. If he's cured, if he doesn't have a reason to look for Young every night anymore, there's a good chance he'll put a stop to this. To them. 

God, now that he really thinks about it, that kiss last night felt final. Rush had already made up his mind, hadn't he? 

He can't say any of that. It won't do anyone any good, and Rush will definitely hate him for it. 

“Rush, it's temporary,” he says instead. “Just until we figure out how to handle those Nakai.” 

Rush is glowering at the ground now. “Fine,” he hisses out through gritted teeth. 

“I'm sorry.” 

“Are you?” Rush asks with a sharp look, and then he turns around and storms out of the room. 

Young frowns at the empty doorway. 

He's not sure.

-

“Hey,” Scott says, as he takes a seat across from Rush. The man barely acknowledges his presence, and continues to shovel the porridge-like meal into his mouth. 

“Listen, Doctor Rush, I'm sorry about what happened this morning. I never really stopped to think about how we'd still need someone being able to communicate with the Lii, or I would've volunteered to stay unchanged.” 

Rush pauses his attack on his lunch, and gives him an inscrutable look. “Why?” 

Scott studies his own bowl of food. There's a new type of fruit in it, they look like unripe blackberries. “Well, I mean, I didn't really notice the drawbacks of the change. The only times it was even an issue was with longer planet trips, which are probably not on the agenda anytime soon anyway. And I can only imagine how much you must hate being like this...it would've been a no-brainer.” 

Rush huffs out a breath. “I appreciate the sentiment, Lieutenant.” 

Scott hesitates. He isn't sure he should say this, because it might break the fragile pleasantness of the conversation. He has to ask, though. “But...didn't _you_ see it coming? That we couldn't afford to lose all lines of communication with them?”

Rush glances to the side with a frown. “I should have,” he says eventually. “I suppose you could say I was somewhat distracted at the time.” 

Abruptly, Rush gets up from the table and grabs his empty bowl. “Well, this was unusual. I'm going back to work.” 

“Right,” Scott says to his already retreating back. “Bye.” 

He has no idea what could have distracted Rush to the point where he'd miss something as obvious as that.

-

“Er, Colonel? You have a message from Rush,” Eli says, as he looks down at his console. It's just the two of them on the bridge, and Young has to admit to himself he has been idly staring out the window for the past twenty minutes. 

“A message?” 

“Yeah, on here.” Eli points down at the screen. “Is this how you guys communicate now?” 

“Apparently,” Young grouses. “What does it say?” 

“Uh, you want me to open it? And like, read it, out loud?” Eli asks with exaggerated apprehension in his voice. 

Young gives Eli an unimpressed look and motions at him to get on with it. He sincerely doubts Rush would ever send him love notes. And if there was a time to start, this would most certainly not be it. He hasn't seen or heard from Rush all day, and he's quite sure the man is still fuming in a corner somewhere. 

“Fine,” Eli says like a child told to clean his room. Then he sobers up. “Here we go. 'To: Colonel Young. See attached map for Destiny's planned course at the time of my Lii abduction.' Huh. Short and sweet. Ah, and here's the map in question.” 

Young gets out of the commander's chair and steps up to Eli to look over his shoulder. 

“Okay, so it looks like he had a global outline going up to the next seven galaxies, but only specific details on gates and solar systems for a few months. We're somewhere around here right now.” He points his finger at the map. “So, that doesn't seem too discouraging, only a small bit more to go.” 

“Assuming this map is correct,” Young says. 

“Why wouldn't it be?” Eli asks with a suspicious frown. “Rush has no reason to lie about this.” 

Young sighs. “Yeah, you're right. So what are we talking here? How long before we're past this point?” 

Eli bends over the map again, moves his fingers over the screen for a few seconds. “Okay, I'm just ball parking it right now, but I'd say a month, maybe six weeks, in FTL.” 

“Brody said we have about a quarter tank left this morning. We'll need to recharge if we're going to make it there, don't we.” 

“Yeah,” Eli agrees. “Probably better to do that sooner rather than later. The longer we wait, the bigger the chances they'll ambush us.” 

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I'll start looking for a star.” 

Young nods. He feels better knowing they at least have the beginnings of a plan, now. Four to six weeks. If they can make it, they'll be safe from the Nakai again.

-

That night, Rush doesn't come to his room. 

Young contemplates looking for him, but decides against it. Rush is still upset. Confronting him now will only result in a fight. His best approach is to give Rush some time and space. 

Maybe he'll try to talk to him tomorrow. 

-

“Rush,” he says in greeting, not looking up from his paperwork. By now he'd recognize those footsteps with his eyes closed. He hadn't expected Rush to come to him. In fact, he'd been prepared to go on another scavenger hunt all over Destiny to find him later tonight. 

He hasn't seen Rush since the scene in the neural interface room. That was two days ago.

The sound of the door closing causes him to glance up from his desk. Rush looks like crap. He is flushed and clammy, and his fingertips betray his nervous trembling. He obviously hasn't touched anyone since their fight. A deep surge of something fond and possessive tugs at Young's insides, because Rush could have gone to Camile but he hasn't, and that must mean something. 

“I'm still angry,” Rush says, as he crosses his arms over his chest. “But I can't function like this.” 

Young takes off his reading glasses and gets up from behind his desk. Slowly, non-threateningly, he walks over to where Rush is still standing in front of the door. “Okay,” he says calmly. He's not sure how to do this. 

When he places a hand on Rush's shoulder, the man shudders deeply and groans low in the back of his throat. Young feels a flash of arousal rip through him at the sight. After a few seconds he slips his hand from Rush's shoulder and steps back to give him some room. He can't help but notice the bulge in Rush's pants. 

When Rush dazedly opens his eyes again, he glares at Young. “You're such a bastard,” he hisses angrily, and then he's pushing up against him, kissing him hard, clawing at his shoulders and neck. Young stumbles backwards a few steps, but then he gets with the program and kisses back, pushes back, until Rush is pressed flush against the wall. 

Rush is pulling on him, rutting against his hip, and Young reaches between them to unfasten their pants. When he wraps his hand around them both, Rush groans and bites his lip roughly, and then they're thrusting against each other, into each other, until everything is limited to this hard, violent pleasure between them. Young moans when Rush comes all over his hand and his cock, and moments later his own orgasm hits him. 

Rush pants into his shoulder for a few seconds, and then shoves him back. Behind the hazy look on his face, Young thinks he recognizes an uncertain dissatisfaction. Then Rush breaks eye contact and sharply buttons himself up.

“You want to stay?” Young hears himself ask, knowing this might be the least appropriate time to ask that. But he's missed having Rush in his bed, having him close. It is the first time he actually acknowledges out loud that something has been different between them in the past couple of weeks. 

Rush flicks his eyes up to him, an irritated scowl on his face despite the flush of color from his recent orgasm. “We're not _boyfriends_ , Colonel,” he sneers. “Just because we fuck now and then, doesn't mean I'm going to move into your quarters and follow you around like a dog.” 

Young physically takes a step back as the harsh tone and words register. “What?” 

“This is just sex.” Rush presses the door opening mechanism. “Don't make it into something it's not.” Then he slips out of the room, and Young is left alone with a hurt and confused anger coursing through his veins.


	18. Chapter 18

The recharge goes off without a hitch. No one is lying in ambush, there are no venomous bug planets in range of the gate, and Destiny's tank is filled to capacity when they exit the star. 

The weeks pass uneventfully, and Young is mostly grateful for that. 

Rush and Brody have been working on the best way of placing the security installation in the gate room, and things are looking promising on that front. They still need to get some chemical component in order to synthesize the knockout gas, but they can get that during the extended drop from FTL. 

He, Rush, and Camile have decided to look for a place to plan the month-long drop once they're past the point of the Nakai threat. Young is not willing to risk an alien ambush right now. It means it will be a few more weeks before their security measures against an invasion are all in place, but it's a calculated risk. Unless the Lucian Alliance has uncovered another Icarus type planet, which seems reasonably unlikely due to the rarity of naquadria cored planets, nobody should be dialing the Destiny for months to come. 

Young has asked Eli to look into a way of blocking incoming calls to the gate from unknown addresses, but that's turned out to be a lot more complicated than they'd first imagined. Eli is working on it, but Young has a secret hope Rush will swoop in at some point and figure out how to do it. 

Rush and he... are complicated right now. They're at an awkward impasse where Rush is satisfied keeping things purely physical, and Young wants more. That much is obvious. And the thing is, a few weeks ago, he'd thought they were moving forward, together. The sex was fantastic, but even in other areas they seemed to be getting along. They'd talked more. They'd even joked, almost as if they were friends. He really thought they'd gotten to understand each other a little better. And then Rush had let him... well, it had been goddamn amazing. If that wasn't a sign of trust, he doesn't know what is. 

Young doesn't understand what happened for Rush to suddenly pull away like this. He gets that the man is upset about not being cured of the Lii changes, but this was happening before that. And it hurts, if he's honest with himself. It hurts not just because he feels rejected, but also because he misses the companionship. He misses the feeling of not being completely alone on the ship. He can't talk about it with Rush, though. He can't show that kind of weakness right now, because he's pretty sure Rush will go for his jugular if he does. Rush will grind him into the dirt, and then he will put a stop to even this purely sexual relationship between them. 

He hates this, he's constantly either angry at Rush or afraid to lose him for good, and the only way he can let off steam is by crowding Rush up against the wall and wrenching orgasms out of him at night. Rush flat-out refuses to do anything on the bed anymore. 

He's sure it's not healthy. And he is also quite sure Camile would not approve. So he keeps quiet, doesn't say anything. 

He knows they can't keep going like this. Something's got to give. 

But all he can think to do is hope it won't be today. 

-

Tomorrow they will pass the farthest point on Rush's map. The threat of a Nakai attack that has been hanging over their heads for the past five weeks will finally be over. They haven't dropped out since refueling in the star, and everyone aboard Destiny is getting a bit antsy. They've grown accustomed to regular stops on planets. Even for the people who don't get to go off the ship, dropping out of FTL, dialing the stargates, sorting out the new stuff that comes in through the gate, it breaks up the monotony. Being stuck in this continuous blur of FTL makes people feel claustrophobic, caged in the metal belly of a monstrous spaceship. Young is certainly not immune. 

He can't wait to finally leave the threat of the Nakai behind. To find a nice place where his crew can pick fruit and catch animals and get a tan. He wants to spend the night in a tent again, falling asleep to the nocturnal calls of the local insect life attempting to attract a mate. He wants to eat something solid again. Despite Park's best efforts, their new hydroponics lab is still nowhere near as lush as the old one had been, and the few pieces of fruit or vegetable served with each meal do very little to satisfy his growing hunger. He wants meat. Christ, what he would give for a steak. 

Yeah, he'll find a nice planet and he'll get back to nature for a few days. He'll make Rush come with him, and then he'll make him come, over and over again, until he stops being so goddamn difficult. God, yes. He'll fuck the cranky bastard right out of him. 

“Er, Colonel Young?” Eli says uncomfortably. 

He yanks his eyes away from Rush, who gives him an irritated look before turning back to his console, and focuses on Eli. “What?” 

“You, uh, you okay? You seemed kind of distracted.” 

Young schools his face into a blank facade. “I'm fine, Eli. What is it?” 

“I just said we found a good place to drop out for those four weeks. There are three planets in range, they all fall within the right parameters to have water, and life.” 

“That's good news.” 

“Yeah, but it's still three weeks away,” Eli says with a frown. 

Young sighs. Three weeks is too long. 

“There is a planet with a stargate two days from here, though. It'll be cold, but there's a good chance it'll have the bromine we need to finish the knockout gas for in the gateroom.”

“Alright, that sounds good for a short stop. Do you think the atmosphere will be breathable?” He means: will they need the spacesuits, or can he allow small groups of the crew down to the planet to get a few breaths of non-recycled air.

Eli shakes his head. “I can't say from here, could go either way.” 

“Okay,” Young says, sitting back in the command chair. He rakes his hand through his hair. 

Unexpectedly, Rush speaks up. “Mr. Wallace, would you mind getting us some tea from the mess hall?” 

Eli looks confused and ready to refuse, but then something like understanding smooths over his features and he stands up from his console. “Sure. I might check to see how Park and Volker are doing in the hydroponics lab, on the way.” 

The minute Eli steps out of the bridge, they're alone, and Young feels a stilted awkwardness settle over the room. 

Rush turns in his seat, and gives him a hard look. “You need to get a grip, Colonel.” 

Young frowns in confusion, not sure how to respond. Rush throws his hands up in agitation. 

“What the hell are you thinking, zoning out, staring at me like that?!” 

“I wasn't staring,” he sputters indignantly. 

“You most certainly were.” 

“Fine,” he admits. “Maybe I'm getting a bit stir crazy.” 

Rush sends him a look he can't interpret. “You really have to get over this idea of us,” he says eventually. He sounds careful, apologetic, even. 

“What does that even mean, Rush?” he asks, purposely refusing to understand.

“It means I don't want more than this, and if you can't handle that, we should put a stop to the whole thing.” 

Something clenches painfully in his chest. Underneath it, a dark current of anger pools in the pit of his stomach. Young keeps his expression indifferent, tries to quiet his emotions before they grow too strong to contain. 

“You know what? I think you're full of shit.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rush says, eyebrows drawn up into an indignant expression. 

“You heard me. You keep saying you don't want, what—something real? Something beyond just fucking? But it wasn't like that before. You... you let me _in_ , Rush. You can pretend all you want like that's no big deal to you, but I know it _was_!”

Rush shakes his head in irritation and gives him a long-suffering sigh. “Once again, Colonel, you've taken all the available evidence and used it to jump to an entirely false conclusion.” 

Young feels his hands ball into fists and is glad he hasn't gotten up from the command chair during this conversation. If Rush's face was within reach right now, he'd be too tempted to punch it. 

“Asshole,” he bites out with an angry glare at Rush. 

Rush gives him that same complicated, almost apologetic look again. “I realized too late we shouldn't have done it. It changed something for you, and I can't go along with that.”

“Well, I can't keep pretending like all we're doing is just this mechanical _thing_ completely devoid of any emotion,” Young snaps back. A frantic rhythm of _no, no, no_ beats against his eardrums in time with his heartbeat. 

Rush is quiet for a long time, and when Young looks up at him there's a deep frown marring his face. He actually looks upset, and fuck, if only Rush could just _see_ his own expression right now he'd understand why Young doesn't believe him when he says this means nothing to him. 

“Fine,” Rush says after long moments have passed. 

For a second, Young feels like he might cry, but it passes and his passive mask doesn't slip. 

Rush shoots him a haughty look. “I would ask that you keep behaving normally around me when people are near.” 

And that's almost it, that's _almost_ the point he goes over to Rush to slam that goddamn arrogant lying little weasel face into his own console. 

“Fuck you, Rush,” he says coldly instead, before walking out of the bridge. 

They don't exchange a single word for the next two days.

-

It happens completely unexpectedly. 

They're a day's worth of FTL travel past the point where the Nakai should have been able to ambush them, and Greer and Volker are down on the planet searching for brackish water that contains sufficient levels of bromine. They're wearing the spacesuits, because the kino readings had shown the amount of methane in the air was way higher than humanly acceptable. Greer is pulling a kino sled with empty containers along while Volker takes water samples from different puddles. 

They've been on the planet for hours, and still none of the water they've tested is usable. They only have three hours left on the clock, and Young is contemplating when to tell them to give up and go back through the gate. 

He is in the gateroom when his radio crackles to life. 

_“Colonel Young! Two ships just dropped out of FTL next to us, they're Nakai!”_ Eli's voice is high-pitched and fast. 

“Copy that, Eli, bring shields up to full power. I'm on my way to the bridge,” he says into his radio. 

To Brody, he says, “Dial the planet and tell Greer and Volker to get back here _now_!” 

Then he's out of the gateroom. 

-

Young runs through the corridors. The ship starts trembling intermittently with the incoming attacks as the Nakai open fire. He's halfway to the bridge when he hears an overwhelmingly loud low hum. A circle on the ceiling flares the reddish orange of melting steel in time with the dull explosions of enemy fire, and he only just has time to jump back before the entire piece of metal crashes into the floor so hard he can feel the tremors in his feet. Shit, this is what happened to Chloe. He has to get away from here, quickly. 

But the brightly lit hole in the ceiling is beautiful. It beckons him, he feels hypnotized, and all he wants to do is look up into it, to see what's inside. Distantly, he recognizes the shape of Rush rounding the corner. He's hurtling towards him, he yells something, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is the blinding light shining into his eyes, he'll finally see what is there, he'll finally _understand_...

Something crashes into him from the side, and they topple to the ground, and suddenly the spell is broken. Rush is lying half on top of him, dragging him away from the hole, aiming a gun – Young's gun – at it, and firing into it twice, three times, until the sidearm clicks emptily. Lack of ammo is becoming a real problem on board. 

Only now does he realize that his upper leg is sending jolts of pain all over his body. Rush must have kneed him pretty hard when they collided. Young guesses he should just be glad Rush missed his groin. 

“We have to _go_!” Rush shouts, and it's as if that starts time back up again. They're under attack, he needs to get to the bridge. Right now. 

He takes Rush's offered hand and lets himself be hauled upright again. They run together, as fast as they can, and only when they have entered the bridge does Rush finally let go of his wrist. 

“Eli, are Greer and Volker back yet?” Young asks immediately. 

“They're five minutes away from the gate. We have like eight of their ships drilling holes into Destiny!” 

“We know,” Young says grimly, taking his place in the command chair. “Rush, can you reverse the shields again, like you did before?” 

Rush shakes his head, still looking a bit pale. “Too risky, we can't assume those calculations are still correct. We don't have time to redo them.” 

Young curses, and uses the shipwide intercom to redirect all military personnel to the points where the Nakai ships are breaching Destiny's hull. “Do not get too close, keep a distance of at least fifteen feet! Take aim and shoot anything that comes through it,” he orders. 

_“They're almost here, I can see them on the kino!”_ Brody shouts through his radio. 

Young pulls up the footage from the planet-side kino, Greer and Volker are running in the spacesuits, they're almost at the gate. 

“Get ready to put the ship back in FTL,” he says, as he raises his hand. 

Rush types something into his console and gives him an affirmative nod. 

The second Young watches Greer jump through the gate on his monitor, Brody radios him again. _“They're back!”_

“Now!” he shouts at Rush, and swings his hand down in the universal sign for _go_. 

The ship creaks and everything shifts sideways for a moment, and then they're back in FTL. 

Everyone is quiet for a few seconds, until Scott enters the bridge to report they've had no Nakai trying to crawl aboard. At least that's one piece of good news, Young thinks sourly. 

“Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but that wasn't supposed to happen,” he says eventually. “Rush, your map must've been wrong.” 

Rush bristles. “It was not!”

“How can you be sure?” he asks, letting all his skepticism sound through in his voice. Right now he's wavering between a) Rush screwed up, and b) Rush lied and screwed up. 

Rush actually bares his teeth at him when he asks that, and Young almost feels guilty. Almost. 

“I went back and checked Destiny's records of that time. How could I have known where she was going to go before even she herself did!” 

Young keeps eye contact for several seconds, and Rush fiercely glares back. “Fine,” he accepts the explanation. “Could you have made a mistake?” 

Rush sneers and shakes his head. “You might have forgotten how fucking terrifying those blue bastards are, but I sure as hell haven't. I checked, and then I double checked. The map was correct. It was a cautious estimate in the first place. They shouldn't have been able to ambush us here.” 

He's turning back to his console now, somehow vaguely reminding Young of a kicked dog. 

“There's another explanation, guys,” Eli says, looking between them with a frown. “We know the Nakai had contact with the Lii. We have a Lii device on board.” 

Rush glances up at Eli, and nods. “It wouldn't be hard to track it, not after seeing how it works.” 

Eli gives him a look. “We have to destroy it.” 

“Wait,” Scott says from the corner of the bridge. “We can't! It's their only way of contacting their people.” 

Young shakes his head. “I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but we won't make it to the next galaxy if we keep it aboard.” 

Scott looks like he wants to say something, but he presses his lips together and nods tightly. “Yes, sir.” 

“I'll do it,” Rush says as he jumps out of his seat. “And then I'll finally get this bloody _disease_ cured once and for all.” 

Then he storms out of the bridge, and, as always, Young feels compelled to follow him and make sure he's actually going to do what he said he was going to do.

“Doctor Rush,” he hears Scott say in the hallway in front of him. They're a few dozen feet ahead of him. “Please, you have to let them know first. Or they'll just sit there, waiting for a call that will never come.” 

Young doesn't really understand why Scott cares so much about these aliens. From what he's seen of them, they lack common etiquette and awareness of social and physical boundaries. You don't just change someone like that without asking for permission. 

“Honestly, Lieutenant, I don't share your fondness for them,” Rush says dryly. 

“If they hadn't warned us—”

“If they hadn't warned us, we would be in the exact same position as we are right now.”

“Come on, please? Who knows, maybe they will return the favor in the future sometime,” Scott says, and Young can't believe Scott is wheedling Rush. And Rush is letting him. When did those two start getting along? 

“Fine,” Rush sighs eventually. “If you insist.” 

And then they're at the storage unit where the communication device is kept, and they all step inside. Without further ado, Rush turns the machine on by pressing his fingers against the screen, and then sinks his hand halfway into it. His eyes flutter closed and his skin starts showing that green glow, and for several minutes, Young feels like he's holding his breath. 

-

“They understand. They're going back to their own galaxy,” is all he says when he pulls his hand out of the device. He hands it to Scott, who looks like he wants to ask more but thankfully has enough sense to keep his mouth shut. 

“Miss Armstrong,” he says into his radio. “If you'd please meet me in the neural interface room?” 

Finally, _finally_ , he'll be free of this curse. 

In a few weeks, Rush thinks, everything will be back to normal. 

-

That evening, Young hears a knock on his door. He frowns. Rush had seemed altogether elated when he'd come out of the chair, muttering something about finally being free of a curse. Somehow Young doubts he'll be seeing much of Rush now that the necessity of physical contact is gone. 

When he opens the door, Eli is staring back at him. 

“Hi. We need to talk,” he says with a serious expression, before he steps inside. 

Young closes the door behind Eli, and turns to him with a questioning look. 

“Yes?” he prompts him, when it seems the boy won't start speaking of his own accord. 

“Right,” Eli says. “Look, I couldn't help but notice that something seems kinda off between you and Rush lately.”

Young doesn't say anything, but nods to confirm that suspicion. 'Kinda off' is an understatement. 'Going through an ugly break-up', while somewhat melodramatic, would be far more accurate. Even just hearing Rush's name fills him with an almost crippling combination of rage and heartache, and it takes a conscious effort to keep his emotions from showing on his face.

“Okay, I'm not asking for any details,” Eli says preemptively. As if Young was planning on giving him any. “I just thought you should know about what happened when we got attacked this afternoon.” 

Eli takes a deep breath, and frowns down at his own hands. “Rush and I were on the bridge, keeping an eye on Destiny while Volker and Greer looked for that bromine stuff on the planet. You were in the gateroom when those Nakai ships dropped out next to us.” Young hums in agreement, none of this is news to him. “The first thing I did was radio you, and the second you told me you were on your way to the bridge, Rush just sort of freaked out. I mean, he'd been really jumpy and irritable the entire day already, but this was more like full-blown panic, you know? I've never really seen him like that before.” 

Young feels something shift in his chest. It sounds like Rush hadn't gone to anyone else for touch after their big fight on the bridge, two days earlier, and he's not sure how to interpret that. He still feels so raw, so upset about how things ended between them. Upset _that_ things ended between them; and that terrible mixture of anger and sadness that's been plaguing him ever since threatens to surge to the forefront of his mind again. He gives Eli a small nod, to indicate he should continue with his story. 

“Well, he said something about the the route from the gateroom being too close to the hull, and then he was just gone. He ran out, and I was left there on my own, and the next time I saw him he was dragging you behind him, pulling you into the bridge.” 

“You did good on your own there, Eli. You couldn't have stopped him,” Young says. 

Eli's exasperated eye roll is not what he'd expected as a response to that. 

“That's nice, Colonel, but that wasn't my point.” 

Eli grimaces, as if he has to work up to what he's going to say next. “Ugh, fine. I know Rush is a difficult son of a bitch most of the time, and I'm like ninety percent sure you guys are fighting because of something he did or said. But the _second_ he thought you were in danger, he jumped in headfirst to save you. And Chloe has told me he still has nightmares about those aliens, they both do, so for him to do that... don't you think you owe it to him to cut him some slack?” 

Young's head is spinning. Eli's story places Rush tackling him in that hallway in a whole new light. Rush must've jumped through the beaming zone to catch him from that angle. He feels a swirl of emotions he can't name, and scrubs his hand over his eyes. For some reason he feels like he could cry right now, his heart hammering an almost hopeful rhythm in his chest.

Fuck. Just when he thought he was out... 

Eli clears his throat awkwardly. He'd almost forgotten the kid was still here. 

“Thanks,” he says. “For letting me know. My whole trip from the gateroom to the bridge was a bit of a blur, but you're right. Rush actually saved my ass, I was about to be beamed away when he showed up. I never stopped to think why he was even there at all.” 

Eli looks surprised. “Really, you were about to be beamed up? What are the odds of that?” 

Young lets out a dry chuckle. “Hell, Rush would probably tell you to calculate it yourself, Mr. Wallace.” 

Eli grins. “Yeah, sure, but it would be impossible to take all the variables into account. I mean, how would I even quantify something like true love?” The second it's out of his mouth, Eli looks mortified. “Shit, ah, I'm sorry, that was a joke. I thought it would be funny, but I, uh— _please don't kill me_.” 

Young regards him with an unimpressed stare. He presses the door control and ushers the babbling young man outside. 

“Go to bed, Eli,” he says with the smallest quirk to his lips.


	19. Chapter 19

Rush has been cured for two weeks, and Young's first instincts had been right. They haven't touched since Rush saved him from the Nakai. They've barely exchanged more than three words in the past two weeks, actually. After Eli had spoken to him, he'd gone to Rush. To thank him, maybe, or to see if there was a chance of Rush coming around to his point of view after all. Rush had used no uncertain terms to convey that Young could kindly fuck off, and that any chance of them ever being together involved snowballs and hell. At first Young had felt despondent, then he'd gotten pissed, and then he decided to move past it. 

So Rush is being a difficult son of a bitch. What else is new. 

Eli's talk has awakened hope in him. It has given him cause to look back at the relationship as it bloomed between him and Rush, and figure out some home truths he'd been too blind to see before. Rush obviously cares; the deeply purpled bruise on Young's thigh is tangible evidence of that. With that little fact proven, the whole equation changes. 

Suddenly Rush pulling away is clearly an act of self-protection. A crude battle wall pulled up around a bludgeoned heart. And even then, Rush had tried to keep part of their...thing going. He'd tried to hold onto the sexual aspect of it, and Young has never truly thought of himself as desirable, but damn if that isn't a ringing endorsement. 

So now Young is biding his time. Only one more week until they drop Destiny out of FTL for an extended stay near three inhabitable planets. In the past two weeks, they performed a massive sweep of the breached areas and the entire hull of the ship, in search of a Nakai tracking device. No trackers were found, and the scans came up empty, but after some deliberation (in which Eli acted as an increasingly agitated go-between for him and Rush) Young approved another shield inversion maneuver. It was not completely without risks, and it set them back almost a full day on their timetable, but it massively outweighed the trouble they'd be in if the Nakai were to find them while Destiny is docked for twenty-eight days. Despite the science team's best efforts, they still haven't managed to figure out how to manipulate the timer more precisely. If they are attacked during their layover, there will be no running. Not without some serious damage to the ship's FTL drives, in any case. The thought fills Young with apprehension, no matter how often Eli and Volker promise him no one will find them because, "Space is a really, really big place." 

Still, an ever growing part of him is hankering for this break. Destiny's walls are closing in on him. The ship feels too small, too claustrophobic, and his quarters too empty. 

Camile and he have already spent hours drafting up rosters, making sure everyone gets a week on each planet and a week of Destiny-duty during the layover. Of course, this is assuming all three planets are actually safe. To be sure no time will be wasted once they arrive, they have even made back-up schedules in case one or two of the planets turn out to be less than habitable. God, he needs this break. Everyone on board needs this break. 

Just one more week in FTL, and they'll finally get a vacation. 

Young has scheduled himself and Rush together for their shifts, and they will talk. They have to talk, even if Rush truly _doesn't_ want to be with him. Because they're in charge of Destiny's mission together. They need to communicate, or things start going wrong. 

He'll give Rush his space and time for the next seven days, but after that, things are going to change. 

Young drags his hand through his hair and sighs. Just one more week. He turns back to preparing for his preliminary meeting with Homeworld Command. 

He's going to convince them to grant him his official status as Destiny's commanding officer. And then he's going to convince Rush to give him another chance. A real chance. 

-

Rush frowns and exasperatedly combs his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. It is starting to get stringy and greasy from how often he drags his hands through it. Not that he cares about that. No, the reason his frustration is building has to do with the problem on his wall; figuring out a way to block the connection when Destiny's stargate is dialed from an unknown location. It's a nifty little idea that could prevent a lot of future problems, and from what Eli had told him it came from the Colonel. He's no longer surprised that Young has the occasional good idea. It's happened often enough. Apparently Young had asked Eli to look into it, which Rush finds both irritating and insulting. But then, he supposes, it's merely a symptom of a much bigger issue between them. 

He scratches out the most recent line of calculations, and sighs. The real problem is that no matter what he does, or what he works on, his thoughts keep circling back to Young. Was it always like this? Young is everywhere, he's entrenched in the business of the ship, and no matter where Rush turns, something always triggers his thoughts back to the man. 

He scrunches his hand in the hair on the back of his head. Even though he's cured, that craving for touch hasn't abated. He doesn't need it anymore, but he still wants it. The fine, slippery strands of his hair are nothing like Young's thick, coarse curls, and a sudden bout of melancholy hits him. 

Fuck. Young is everywhere, because he's in his head. Part of him regrets telling Young once and for all that they were never going to happen. ' _Not a snowball's chance in Hell_ ,' he'd said, and he'd watched with a perverted sense of accomplishment as Young's expression fell. At the time, he'd said it mostly because he was angry about what happened the day before. In hindsight, though, he knows it had to be done. He doesn't want to, _can't_ , let someone in like that again. He wouldn't be able to cope with the loss. Not again. Not this time. 

Even now he's afraid he might've been too late already. His instinctive fear when the Nakai had attacked had been overruled by near-blind panic at the idea of Young being taken by them. He isn't even sure what had scared him more about that thought, losing Young from the ship, or knowing Young was going to go through the same torture he himself had endured. Seeing Young in that corridor, blinking up into that brightly lit circle, his features washed out to the barest traces of themselves in that sharp light...it had nearly stopped his heart. Without even considering what he was doing, he'd launched himself through the beaming zone, into Young's still body. He'd risked himself to save Young without thinking, and he can't rationally explain that away. 

Of course Young's first reaction had been to blame Rush for the attack, and he still gets agitated when he thinks about how much that had stung. Not just because he was still raw from what happened in that corridor, but also because it reminded him of how bad things had actually been that first year on Destiny, and how much better almost everything had been when they'd gotten along. 

Late at night, he tries not to miss Young, forces himself not to think about the warmth of his body, or that exasperated fondness coming off of him. He tries to keep himself from wishing he could go back to the time when realizing Young liked him had been bewildering but deeply pleasing, instead of terrifying and constricting. His bed is cold now, has been, for months. And hell if that's not a neat little metaphor for his life at the moment. He hasn't even spoken to Young for two weeks, and somehow that is the worst part. Because he's gotten used to having someone to talk to. To being startled by Young's offbeat jokes. To that uncertain little smile he sometimes shows when he feels vulnerable. 

By telling Young that he didn't want them to be together, that he didn't care for him, he'd ruined the budding friendship between them as well. Somehow, out of all the things he's done since coming to Destiny, he regrets that the most. 

-

“Ah, Nicholas! Morning,” Camile says with an amount of happy energy he hasn't seen from her in months. She checks her laptop quickly. “You're scheduled to leave for the second planet in thirty minutes.” 

He contemplates telling her he doesn't want to go, but even he can't deny he's feeling cooped up on the ship. Everywhere he turns he's reminded of Young, and then this miserable sense of loss washes over him. It's gotten to the point he can barely focus on his work anymore. He hasn't had any breakthroughs in over a week now, and he figures it might be time to admit he needs a change of scenery. He gives her a curt nod. 

“You're lucky, I heard they have waterfalls there,” she says to him with barely contained excitement. “I'll see you in a half hour.” 

He walks back to his room, packs a small bag, and makes his way over to the gateroom. Around twenty people are standing near the gate with minimal luggage and shared expressions of joyous anticipation and relief. He sees Brody, Volker, Park, and Greer engaged in excited conversation, backpacks slung over their shoulders. He recognizes Barnes and Dunning, and two Lucian Alliance men whose names he can't recall at the moment. 

“Alright, people!” Eli yells over the loud chattering. “We're dialing the second planet, step back from the gate, please!” 

Rush looks at the chevrons locking one by one. No matter how many times he sees it, it never fails to capture his attention and his imagination. They're mechanically establishing an open wormhole that could lead them anywhere. It's the kind of thing he used to only dream about. It isn't until the event horizon punches outward and then settles back into a calm puddle, that he realizes Young has stepped to the front of the group. 

“Okay, two at a time,” Young orders, as he starts herding people through the gate. 

For a split second Rush thinks he should just run away, back inside Destiny, where everything reminds him of Young but at least the real thing isn't right there in front of him. But then he's the only person left of the group, and Young quirks his eyebrow and asks “You coming?”, and it's the first thing he's said to Rush in nearly three weeks. It sounds friendly, and easy, and half the things he really misses about Young and perhaps... Perhaps they could have that again, that companionable working relationship. Not as lovers, but maybe as something closer to friends. 

In that instant he makes a decision. Sex without emotional entanglement clearly didn't work. However, a certain degree of friendship, without sex...that might. Later, he will wonder if the pent up restlessness from being in FTL for so long influenced his judgment, but not right now.

He shakes off the thrill of anxious alarm that runs through him. He can do this. It's the best option available. It doesn't have to mean anything more.

He can make this work.

With Young at his side, he steps through the gate.

-

When they come through, it's dawn on the planet. Thick droplets of dew cling to the lush green grass, and Young hears the early morning trills of alien birds in the distance. _Finally_ , his body sings, as he takes a deep breath of clean air. 

“People,” he addresses his group. “The first thing we're going to do is build some shelters.” Some people cheer, some people groan. “I will take three volunteers to start hunting and gathering for our lunch,” he says benevolently. 

Park and Volker raise their hands immediately. 

“I'm just so, so bad at building things,” Park says apologetically. 

“Yeah, me too,” Volker chimes in. 

Young gives them a small smile and looks over the rest of the group. When his eyes land on Rush, he says, “Would you join them?” 

Rush gives him a slightly confused look, but nods easily enough. Judging from the way his shoulders relax fractionally, it was the right call. 

“Good, now that we have that settled, let's build our homes for the coming week!” 

-

Three hours later, Young is looking over their handiwork. Not bad at all, he thinks, as his eyes skim over the ten tents they have built. They've brought in some comforters from empty quarters on Destiny, which made everything much easier. The material is similar to stretchy polyester, and completely water resistant. Most people have built their tents against trees, but Brody has actually designed a complicated looking structure on a rocky ledge that towers a few meters above the rest of the camp. 

Their tents make up a rough circle, and Greer is already clearing an area in the middle for a campfire. Judging from how far apart the tents are placed, however, it's quite obvious that people are hoping for at least a modicum of privacy as well. Young checks over his own tent one last time. He's built it between two mature trees that grow small pink berries. The thick trunks give it all the support it could possibly need. 

As he walks around camp and gives pointers to some of the people who haven't had much experience building shelters, he thinks this will be his first real vacation since coming to Destiny. 

-

“I wonder if they're even edible,” Park says with a look at the eggs they've found. The nest is balanced on top of a container full of assorted fruit and vegetables. At least they won't starve, Rush thinks. The planet is writhing with life. He hopes they'll be able to catch some of the geese-like birds he's seen flying around. He wouldn't say no to some protein in solid form, that's for sure. 

“Inman gave us some testing equipment,” Volker says. “I have a good feeling about it.” 

“God, did you see those waterfalls?”

“Yeah,” Volker nods. “I can't wait to finally swim again.” 

“You used to swim in high school, right?”

“And college.”

“So, let's see who we can get to come skinny dipping tonight,” Lisa says with a mischievous grin. 

Volker laughs, and his cheeks turn pink, and Lisa snorts out a laugh as well. 

Rush ignores them and thinks about the coming week. Perhaps it's naive, but the way Young spoke to him gives him hope that something can be salvaged between them. That friendly working relationship that both of them had been striving for in their own way, if they can figure out how to get past all the recent...complications, perhaps they can still have that.

He's not sure what Young is thinking, but it's no coincidence they're here together. He hopes it means Young has had time to cool down, to take a step back and assess his own emotions, and realize that anything romantic between the two of them would be disastrous. He wonders if Young, too, has come to the conclusion that they're better when they keep things pleasant and professional. Christ, Camile would be proud of him, he thinks, and shakes his head in mild exasperation. 

When they get back to the camp, Rush is reasonably impressed with the progress the group has made. A number of tents circle a wide space that will probably serve as a makeshift town square while they're here. In the middle there's a cleared area circled by small rocks, and Greer is chopping firewood next to it. He's shirtless and covered in sweat, and he looks up with a grin when Lisa catcalls at him loudly. Rush is quite certain he sees the back of Volker's neck color slightly, but he doesn't care enough to examine it closer. 

He finds himself searching for Young, and the look on Young's face when their eyes meet lets him know he wasn't very subtle about it. 

Young looks different, out here, on this planet. Lighter, somehow. More carefree. The happy expression on his face as he claps Brody on the arm makes him look ten years younger. Rush suppresses the urge to go to him, and waits for Young to walk up to him. 

“Did you find anything good?” Young asks, as soon as he's within talking distance. The way he looks at him, curious and benign; like they haven't spent the last three weeks avoiding each other. Like they never stumbled into a relationship that got much more serious than Rush ever intended... It puts him at ease, because yes, it seems Young shares his opinion. They're better off not fighting, and not fucking. Pleasant and professional. He can do that. 

Rush nods with a slight shrug. “Fruit, vegetables, some rather large eggs.” 

It's surprisingly easy, to slip into this amicable atmosphere again, and Rush hadn't truly understood how much he'd missed it until right this moment. 

“Eggs? How big?” 

He holds his thumb and index finger about fifteen centimeters apart. 

“Nice,” Young grins, and Rush feels his own lips twist up slightly in an answer. Young's enthusiasm at being here is somewhat contagious, he supposes. 

He can do this.

-

The rest of the afternoon is reserved for settling in and exploring. Young sends Calvos and Laz, the two former Lucian Alliance members, to set traps and hunt for the birds Rush had mentioned. To his surprise, Rush decides to tag along with them. 

Young is looking forward to taking a hike, to exploring the woods and hills around him, on his own. Time away from everyone else is one of the things he misses most since coming to Destiny. Since coming to Icarus, really. Knowing there is always someone nearby is both comforting and strangely isolating. 

He takes a deep breath and grabs his canteen, and sets out in south-eastern direction from the camp. The planet is beautiful, and for the first time since longer than he can remember, his thoughts are quiet. It must be Spring or Summer here, because the thick green foliage around him is dotted with colorful flowers and berries. Purple striped bees dip and swoop around him as he makes his way over to examine them closer. 

He finds a pond, ringed by trees that remind him of weeping willows, and it's beautiful. He decides to go for a swim, and the water is warm. He glides through it, and it feels nice, the light resistance of it against his skin, his muscles. After an hour, he gets out. He didn't think to bring a towel, so he uses his undershirt to dry himself off before slipping back into his clothes. He ties the damp shirt loosely around his neck, and continues trekking in a wide circle back to the camp. 

He comes across a clearing lined with fruit trees. Monkey-like creatures chatter loudly at each other as they pick pieces of fruit and discard most of them after a few nibbles. They freeze when they realize he's there, and within seconds they've climbed and hidden high up in the trees. The silence is full of animalistic fear and anticipation. Carefully, Young steps back until he's out of their line of sight. A minute later, the monkeys are back in the lower branches again, noisily picking over the best fruit.

When he gets back to the camp, the sun is starting to set. Greer is building a campfire, and someone has placed sawed logs around the fire pit for people to sit on. 

“Hi, sir,” Greer says, and Young pulls his black undershirt on before greeting him back. “How was your hike?” 

“Very good, Master-Sergeant,” he answers with a relaxed smile. He feels better than he has in a very long time. The clean air and solitude left his mind clear. “Everything alright here?” 

“Yeah, just waiting for Rush and the Lucians. They radioed in about an hour ago to say they'd caught a bunch of those big birds.” 

Young eyes the spit roast holders Greer has installed over the fire. “I hope they taste like chicken. Or better yet, beef,” he says. 

“You and me both, sir,” Greer laughs. “Ah, speak of the devil.” 

Young follows Greer's line of sight and sees Rush, Calvos, and Laz enter the camp, each with two of the birds slung over their shoulders. The birds are huge, the size of swans, at least, and Young feels a surge of affectionate respect for the scientist. Rush, who is one of the smartest people he's ever met, who has made science his religion. Yet who also scraps like a street rat, and who is walking over to him right now like a modern day caveman with his trophies. 

“Hey,” Young says, stepping close to take one of the birds from him. “Nice catch.” 

Rush looks tired, but also kind of pleased. “Help me clean them, would you?” 

Young smiles and acquiesces. As they sit next to the fire, plucking and gutting the birds, he's pretty sure they did the right thing, coming here. 

-

Dinner is superb. Volker makes a quick trip to Destiny for some salt and the thyme-like herb they've been growing in hydroponics, and his seasoning takes the flavor of the roasted birds from pretty damn tasty to downright delicious. 

Even Rush seems to be enjoying his meal immensely, and he's never given any indication of seeing food as anything but necessary sustenance. Then again, most of the food he's seen Rush eat is the protein slop with varying degrees of added alien vegetables. It's hardly something to get excited about. 

Afterwards, when they've finished every last scrap of meat, a drowsy calm washes over them. Some people are reclining tiredly against the logs, eyes closed and head tilted back. Others sort of lean into each other and stare into the fire with a sated smile. Young turns to Rush with a mild look, and they share a peaceful moment as the sounds of hushed conversation flow around them. 

Eventually Park, who pointedly hadn't partaken in the poultry meal, convinces a number of people to go for a late night swim near the waterfalls, and suddenly there are only about five people left around the campfire. 

“You're not going?” Rush asks, staring into the flames. The warm light flickering over his face makes him seem calmer. Softer, somehow. 

“Nah, I'm good here. 'Sides, I already went for a swim this afternoon.” 

“The waterfalls?” 

“No, little pond, 'bout an hour away,” he says as he points somewhere over his shoulder. “It was nice.” 

“'Tis a nice planet,” Rush says agreeably. 

“Yeah,” Young sighs. 

They sit in companionable silence for long minutes, and Young vaguely registers Brody, Barnes, and Graham getting up and leaving in the same direction as the rest of the group. 

They're alone now, sitting side by side. The only sounds are the crackling logs in the fire, and the cricket-like rustling in the woods around them. 

“I prefer it this way,” he says after a while, breaking the peaceful quiet between them. 

“What?” Rush asks cautiously. 

“When we get along.” 

Rush lets out a huff of breath, and when Young looks over at him he sees a tiny smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Me too.” 

-

The warm meal in his belly has left him satisfied and relaxed. Sitting next to the fire with Colonel Young is surprisingly pleasant. Hearing Young verbalize his own sentiment is nice as well, and he's honestly glad he came here. They seem to be mending fences, and a small flutter of hope has taken residence in his chest. Perhaps he made the right choice, coming here. 

“Have you decided where you're going to sleep, yet?” Young asks after they've been quiet for at least ten minutes. 

Rush hadn't really given it any thought. “We're sharing?” 

Young gives him an amused look. “And here I thought you were good at counting and dividing and all that math stuff.” 

Rush narrows his eyes at him and Young actually huffs a laugh. “You can bunk with Brody, or with me. Everyone else has already paired up.”

“Brody didn't plan on sharing with Volker?” Rush asks with a small frown. Those two always share on away missions. 

“Well. Yeah, probably, but he doesn't mind bunking with you either.” 

It's just sharing a tent. If they want to get back to that professional working relationship, they're going to have to share shelter on planets every once in a while. Besides, if he says no now, it will probably douse the pleasantly relaxed atmosphere between them. And it's nice, like this. He can't deny that he wants this with Young, this companionship. 

It's just sharing a tent. 

Rush huffs a breath, and shakes his head. “No, that won't be necessary. I wouldn't deprive Brody of Volker's riveting personality.” 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Young sending him one of those small smiles. He steadfastly continues to stare into the flames. 

-

It's surprisingly easy, to fall asleep with Young at his side again. 

He only wakes up once, breathing hard, but the nightmare is already draining away as his conscious mind fills him in and the details of his surroundings blot out the blood and the horror and the agony. He pulls his arm away from where it's draped over Young's stomach, and turns around. The warmth of Young's back seeps into his own, and he's asleep again within minutes. 

-

The planet rotates around its axis in a little over twenty-three hours, so they can basically stick to Earth schedules. 

They fall into an easy rhythm. In the morning they gather food and other provisions for Destiny. At midday, they send everything they've collected through the gate and have lunch with the entire group. The first three hours of the afternoon are reserved for stocking up on their own food supplies. Some people go hunting or fishing, others check the traps Laz and Calvos have set on the first day, and some gather fruit and vegetables. The rest of the day, people are free to do whatever they want. Some people find relaxation in woodcutting or sketching, others gather in small groups to play team sports and games.

Young often joins in for a game or two, but what he enjoys most are his long hikes in the late afternoon. On the fourth day, he offers Rush to come along, and he's somewhat surprised when Rush slowly puts aside his notepad and takes him up on it. 

They leave the camp in a southern direction, because Young wants to show Rush the pond he'd found on his first day. The water there was much warmer than the waterfalls where everyone has been swimming and bathing for the past few days. 

They walk southward for almost an hour, until the ground just curves so steeply, into a valley so deep, climbing down it would take the entire day. Young stops to admire the view; the valley is massive, and covered in lush, light green shrubbery and grass. A broad river glitters brightly through its middle. On the other side of it, he thinks he sees large reddish brown beasts grazing. 

Rush steps up next to him and looks around quietly. 

“Probably the impact site of a meteor.” 

Young smiles. “You can tell just from looking?” 

Rush shrugs lightly. “Not conclusively, no. But the shape of the valley, and its relatively sharp edges make it a distinct possibility.” 

Young turns back to look out over the valley. “Well, it looks peaceful,” he says eventually. “That's what I miss sometimes, when we're on the ship. Nature like this...calm, wide open. Undisturbed by civilization.” He shrugs. “I guess I find it soothing.” 

Rush gives him a slightly amused look, and then turns back to the valley. “I suppose it is.” 

They follow the edge of the valley for a while, until Young steers them away from it. Sometimes they stop to examine some of the flora, but mostly they're making good time. When they reach the pond with the willow trees around it, Rush stops and stares for a good minute. 

“Nice, right?” Young grins, as he takes off his boots and starts to strip down. He grabs a bar of soap from one of his pockets, and gives Rush a questioning look. 

“Yeah,” Rush says after a short pause, before flicking his eyes back to the willows. “I think these might be phosphorescent, actually.”

“Huh, we're going to have to go at night sometime, then.” Young tries to keep his voice light and easy as he steps out of his boxers. “You coming too?” he asks, and without looking back, he walks into the water. 

He wades in until the water reaches his navel, dips completely under for a few seconds, and washes his body and hair with the bar of soap. His heart thumps in his chest, because this is a gamble. He has no idea how Rush will react. When he hears Rush getting into the water he smiles to himself, relieved. Rush has been surprisingly easy-going on the planet. Or maybe Young has just finally figured out how to handle him. Trying to force him, or chasing him down, only results in Rush digging his heels in. But show him an opportunity, let him choose what he wants, and apparently he goes along quite easily. 

Young isn't sure how far Rush will let him stretch this careful thing between them. He honestly hadn't expected Rush to even share a tent with him. But sometimes he sees something in Rush's face, in his body language, that he interprets as longing. And for the few days they've been here, it's been almost like before. The atmosphere between them is comfortable, and Rush has been nothing but amiable. There is no sex, of course. No kissing, or touching, or any kind of flirtation. But he hadn't really expected that anyway. Young is more than thrilled that Rush seems open to getting back to what they had before, even if that doesn't include physical contact. 

Still... Knowing that Rush is here with him, naked in the water, slowly awakens his arousal. Young can feel his heartbeat in his dick, and it is starting to feel plump with the increased blood flow. He takes a few steps further into the clear water. 

“Do you want the soap?” he asks, his back still to Rush. 

Rush hums an affirmative. Young looks over his shoulder and tosses it to him. Rush catches the soap in cupped hands, and starts rubbing it over his body. It's not done in a particularly erotic way, but Young still has to force himself to look away. He dives under and swims to the middle of the pond. 

The water is slightly colder below the surface here, but it's still too pleasant a temperature to wilt his half-hard cock. From this distance he calmly watches as Rush works the suds into his hair. When Rush is done washing, he throws the bar of soap to the shore, near where they left their clothes on the ground. Then he starts swimming to the other side of the pond. 

Young swims a wide, lazy circle around him, simply enjoying the feel of the water against his skin. His arousal doesn't wane, but it doesn't feel urgent either. It just sort of blends in with his overall feeling of contentedness. 

Rush has made it to the other side of the pond, to a huge flat boulder that lines the edge of it. He is sitting on a broad stone ledge that protrudes from the rock, half of it a few inches underwater. 

Young enjoys the water, swimming and relaxing idly in the middle of the pond. After about half an hour, he decides to go over to Rush. The water is deep here, it doesn't taper off slowly from the shore like it does on the other side, and he hooks his crossed arms on the ledge. He's just a few feet away from where Rush is sitting with his lower legs dangling over the edge. He looks utterly at ease. The water comes to halfway up his thighs, and he's leaning back on his arms with his face angled to the sky. Tiny droplets of water fall from his hair and make little _plip_ sounds in the water. 

Young wishes he could capture him like this, in this moment. If he could sculpt, or draw, this is what he would try to recreate over and over again. He rests his head on his arms, and watches Rush silently. 

Nearly a minute passes before Rush angles his face down to regard him with a shaded look. “What?” 

Young feels his lips twitch up at Rush's annoyed tone. “I'm pretty sure I could fall asleep like this,” he says mellowly.

“Yeah, well, don't, because you'll drown.” 

Young grins into the crook of his elbow and then pushes away from the ledge to swim back to shore on the other side. As if Rush would let him drown. 

Once again, he uses his undershirt to dry off before slipping back into his clothes and boots. His cock feels snug in his boxers when he sits down on the ground to wait for Rush, and he enjoys the secret knowledge of his own low-grade arousal. He picks the biggest pieces of twigs and leaves off the mostly dried bar of soap, and puts it back into one of the pockets of his uniform pants. 

When Rush makes it back to shore, Young offers him his damp undershirt to dry off with, and Rush takes it with only the slightest hesitation. His eyes linger a beat too long on Young's naked torso, and when he turns around to get dressed, Young allows a small smile onto his lips. 

Tomorrow, he decides, they'll bring towels.

-

The hike back to camp takes another hour, and the walking and swimming have helped build his appetite. He glances over at Young, who is still not wearing his shirt, acting like that's the most normal thing in the world. Rush can make out the faint outline of the burn scar on Young's chest. 

He can't help but feel slightly self-conscious. 

He doesn't know exactly why it bothers him. Perhaps it's the combination of the combat boots and those uniform trousers with the nakedness of Young's torso that makes something in his stomach flutter. Possibly it is an after-effect of that look Young had given him as he was hanging from that ledge in the pond, a sort of reverent desire Rush had no idea how to react to. Perhaps it is simply remembering what all that skin tastes like, what it feels like under his hands and lips and tongue, and knowing he will never get to experience that again. 

Fuck, but part of him still wants to. 

He looks around and realizes he recognizes the trees here. They're nearly at the camp. “Perhaps you should put your shirt back on,” he says impassively. Young frowns for a second, but then seems to understand his point. He wrestles back into the still damp shirt before they walk into the camp. 

Greer and Barnes are already building the fire for the evening, and Graham and Calvos are cleaning the birds they've caught. Park seems very excited about the orange potatoes she's peeling, and Volker and Brody are squeezing juice out of fruit and appear to be mixing it with a large container of Brody's liquor. They must've gone back aboard Destiny to get it. 

Young gives a soft snort at the scene in front of them, and Rush finds himself slightly amused as well. His science team help keep Destiny flying, and may be part of one of the most important missions in the history of the universe. But deep down, they're just a lot of overgrown kids.


	20. Chapter 20

In the few days here, Young has gotten to know some of the civilians he's never even really spoken to aboard Destiny. The woman Barnes has been bunking with, for example, Julia Anderson, turns out to be quite proficient at sewing. She teaches him how to fix his socks in a way that actually works instead of leaving him with the exact same hole opening up again the next day. 

Rush is off spear-fishing with Greer near the waterfalls, and Young is still kind of amazed by those two choosing to spend any time together. Although of course, seeing Rush save Park from that bomb had done a lot to improve Greer's impression of him. And Young had always gotten the feeling Rush thought it was fantastically hilarious that Greer punched David in the face on Icarus. Ah, now that he thinks about it, maybe those two make sense together. 

Young looks down at his hands. Last night, Rush had woken up twice. At first Young had kept still because he thought maybe Rush was having a sex dream, what with the short moan he let out, and the harsh panting when he woke up. But then he'd heard him sob wetly, just once. Rush had delicately touched his fingers to the side of Young's throat for a second or two, as if to reassure himself he was still alive, before quietly moving back down again. They had lain there with their backs turned to each other, and Young had listened as Rush's breathing slowly softened into sleep again. 

A few hours later, he'd woken up for the second time, and only then had he realized that the same thing had happened after they'd been together, after Rush had asked Young to fuck him. That was the last time they'd spent the night together, and now he can't help but wonder if Rush has been having nightmares this whole time. 

Jesus Christ, how had he not realized it sooner? It makes sense, and it feels like a missing puzzle piece finally falling into place. Were the nightmares the reason Rush had started to pull away from him in the first place? Did they start because Rush had opened up to him too much? 

God, and he had wondered if he'd taken this thing between them more seriously than Rush.

At that moment, Young had wished he could've turned around, could've taken Rush into his arms. He'd wanted to murmur placating nothings to him, kiss loving comfort into his skin. Instead he'd stayed silent, had listened as Rush lied back on his side again, body turned away from Young. He'd waited until Rush's breathing told him he was asleep once more, and quietly rolled up against his back. 

When he'd woken up, Rush and he were tangled together, arms holding tight and legs intertwined. 

It had been difficult extricating himself from Rush without waking the man, but somehow he'd managed. Before stepping out of the tent to help prepare breakfast, he'd stared at Rush. He hadn't been able to help the surge of protectiveness as he watched his sleeping face. 

Young realizes Anderson is giving him a questioning look, and he gives her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn't sleep well last night.” 

She nods with a look that tells him she's seen plenty of rough nights herself, and he pats her on the knee before getting up and excusing himself. He wants to see Rush, but he doesn't expect him and Greer back for at least another hour. He'll use the time to check in with the remaining crew on the ship, get some updates on their food reserves and the status of the other two planets. When this week is over, he and Rush have a week of Destiny-duty. He's not looking forward to it, if he's honest, but at least they'll have two more weeks of vacation after that. 

-

Between the two of them, they catch twelve fish, most of them about the length of his forearm. They're getting used to the hearty meals on the planet, and Young has told him he hopes people will put on a few pounds in the coming weeks. They've all been underweight for months now, living on approximately 1400 calories a day, between the protein slop and the meager fruit and vegetable rations on the ship. 

Greer grins at him. “Not too shabby, Doc,” he says, as he eyes the six fish Rush has caught. 

Rush feels his concentrated expression give way to a tiny smile. Everything is easier here. Everyone is less wound up, less likely to explode in each other's face. 

He misses Destiny a little, but knowing she is out there, lying still, waiting for them to come back, makes all the difference. He knows him being here on this planet, catching animals and picking fruit, is a highly inefficient form of resource management. He could be solving shield calculations aboard Destiny, or figuring out how to improve the irregular power flow in sections 35-SK to 35-SP. But for now being here is nice enough that he's willing to believe that perhaps a break from the high-pressure, high-stakes environment that is Destiny will improve his performance in the long run. Besides, he's finally on speaking terms with Young again, and that is worth everything. He's quite certain no amount of relaxation will ameliorate his reduced productivity of late as much as that. Even if it doesn't come without drawbacks; the occasional pang of inappropriate lust is much easier to ignore than the deep sense of loss that kept catching him unawares on the ship. 

And it _is_ beautiful here, he thinks, as he takes in the waterfalls on the other side of the lake. 

“You ready to go back to the Colonel?” Greer asks, out of nowhere. It's such an oddly phrased question he can't help but wonder how much Greer knows. 

Rush gives him a hard look. 

“To show the fish!” Greer says, hands up and eyes wide with faux innocence. 

Rush narrows his eyes at him. Shit. He doesn't appreciate this, being made fun of by a boy half his age, baited with something the kid knows nothing about. He thought Greer tolerated him. Why is he suddenly picking a fight now? 

Greer laughs, and Rush blinks a few times, because it doesn't sound malicious. “Relax, would you?” he chuckles, as he rests his spear upright against his shoulder. “I think it's nice you two are getting along, and I doubt anyone would dare to disagree with that.” 

The way he says it sounds almost threatening, but the cocky grin that he aims at Rush makes it feel like a friendly conversation. What is Greer saying?

Some of his confusion must bleed through on his face, because Greer looks over at the waterfalls and leans back slightly. “He got your back? You got his?” His profile stands out starkly and he gives a little shrug. “That's good enough for me.”

Rush frowns, and wonders how Greer found out. And what exactly he thinks he knows. 

“Colonel Young and I are attempting to build a good working relationship,” he explains reasonably. 

Greer gives a little snort and turns to him. “Yeah, I know how that goes.” 

“If you're referring to your relationship with Doctor Park, you've misunderstood me,” he says sharply. 

Greer just looks back at the waterfalls and shakes his head slightly. “No.” 

Rush has no idea how to react to that, so he opts to wait it out. 

“Well!” Greer suddenly stretches out wide. “We should get back to camp. See if we can sucker someone into cleaning these for us,” he says with a wink at their fish. 

Slowly, Rush follows him out of the water. He's not entirely sure what just happened, but it seems he has Greer's blessing to be with Young. Bit late for that, seeing as they already crashed and burned weeks ago, but he supposes Gloria would say it's the thought that counts. 

Even the bone deep grief that weaves through his chest at the thought of Gloria seems a bit more distant on this planet. 

-

That afternoon, Young asks him to come hiking again. Rush had been planning to go over a few of his older math proofs, but Young's open and relaxed face sways him. He's not certain it's a good idea to go, because some of their contact on this planet has felt too intimate, too close. But still he does, and when Young tells him to bring a towel, he feels a quiet flutter of anticipation. 

Today, Young sets out in an eastern direction, and as Rush follows him he wonders if there's a method to Young's madness. Does he just pick a course randomly? Or is there a cognitive system in place that determines in which direction he sets out? It doesn't really matter, of course, but it guides his thoughts in a way he finds calming. 

“How was fishing?” Young asks when they've been walking for nearly forty minutes. 

Rush gives him an unimpressed look. Young saw their catch, he knows it went well. This nonspecific small talk is not Young's style, and neither is it Rush's. 

Young huffs and gives him a crooked smile. “Just surprised you willingly chose to spend time with Greer.” 

Rush has to clamp down on the answering smile that wants to settle on his face. “He's not a bad lad,” he says eventually. 

After another ten minutes of hiking, Young says, “Left or right?”

Rush shrugs. “Does it matter?” 

“I have no idea what we'll find if we go left. If we go right, at some point we're going to come across fruit-picking monkeys and the pond with the willow trees.” 

“Monkeys?” 

Young nods and cocks his head at him. They've brought towels, and Rush is kind of looking forward to taking another swim in that warm water. 

“Right, then,” he says with a small hand motion to the right. Young gives him a curious look, but doesn't say anything. 

The monkey-like creatures are fascinating, from a biological and anthropological standpoint. They watch them chatter at each other and picking and discarding fruit for several minutes. But ultimately, Rush is a man of the hard sciences, and the monkeys somehow feel too unimportant to keep his interest much longer. 

They continue on their way, and when they reach the pond he is once again stricken by how utterly peaceful the place looks. It reminds him of the inspirational tranquility images on advertisements for yoga lessons; he's certain it would be a perfect place for meditation. Not that he'd ever gotten the hang of that himself. His thoughts have always been too loud, too present, to quiet. He'd never 'found his center', as one of Gloria's friends had once jokingly said. 

Maybe Destiny is his center. 

They're on the other side of the pond today, the side with the rock formations and the stone ledge. Young is next to him, undoing his boots already, and yes, this is why he came here. To swim in this luscious warm water. To relax his muscles and his mind. And if he can do that together with Young, well, that's what this whole trip is about, isn't it? Mending fences, building bridges, and more of that analogous nonsense.

Young, already undressed, climbs onto the ledge and dives off it. He seems happy, in the water. Carefree. 

Rush is glad for this pond. He's had so many nightmares about water and drowning since the Nakai took him, he'd expected at least some trouble yesterday. But the pond was nothing like that; the open water, the warmth, the Colonel swimming just a few dozen meters away... it was nice. Relaxing. And he wants more of that. Fuck those spindly blue bastards, they're not going to keep him from enjoying this. 

Young is already halfway across the pond, and with little effort Rush shrugs out of his clothes and dives in as well. 

-

The days on the planet go by too fast, and before he knows it, it's their last evening. The group celebrates with one last, big meal around the campfire. Brody and Volker, who have been perfecting their fruity alcoholic cocktail recipe over the past week, hand out their latest and best batch yet. There's not enough of the stuff for anyone to get truly drunk, but by the end of the feast Young feels pleasantly buzzed, his cheeks warm and his smile easy. 

Rush is sitting next to him on the tree trunk they've adopted as theirs during this stay. He seems more relaxed than Young has seen him in a long time, and suddenly Young can't think of a single good reason why he shouldn't propose this. 

“Come on, it's our last night here,” he cajoles Rush. “I want to see if you were right about those glow-in-the-dark trees.” 

“Of course I'm right about that,” Rush grouses, but he takes the hand Young offers and lets himself be hauled upright. A tendril of happiness blooms in Young's chest. This week has been good for them. They're better, easier around each other. 

It's almost like how it was before, except that the few times they touched it's been platonic. An ever deepening undercurrent of sexual tension has been building up between them for days now. 

It's a warm evening, and the hour-long walk to the pond seems to go by much faster than usual. Everything looks distinctly peculiar now that it's dark, but he's familiar enough with the surroundings to recognize the way even at night. 

Some of the flowers they pass glow a subdued orange, and Young wonders if the willows will cast the same light. He feels heavy anticipation struggle through his veins, because something is different this time. It's their last night here, and maybe this is when everything changes. 

They haven't said a word to each other since setting off for the pond, and Young wonders if Rush feels it too. This anxious waiting for something, anything, to happen. 

When they arrive at the water, Young feels the breath catch in his throat. It's beautiful. Small dots of orange light speckle the hanging branches of the weeping willows, creating a curtain of soft light around the pond. The still water reflects the lights back at them, making the effect even more stunning. It reminds him of the mall around Christmastime, only less gaudy and much more serene. 

“It seems to be a symbiotic relationship with a phosphorescent type of fungus,” Rush muses, and the way the peach-colored pinpricks of light reflect in his eyes makes him look otherworldly. Young wants to kiss him, so he looks away. 

“It's beautiful,” he says. 

He can feel Rush giving him one of his little looks, and he can't deal with that right now, so he turns away and strips out of his clothes. At this point in his life, after twenty-five years on the force and countless sexual encounters with Rush, he's long past the point of self-consciousness at his own nudity. But Rush's eyes prickle on his skin as he steps into the water, and it feels as if a raw electrical current travels over his spine. 

The water is even better at night. The evening breeze creates just enough contrast with the warm water to be pleasant, and Young lets himself drift lazily on his back as he takes in the breathtaking scenery around him. 

He hears Rush swimming nearby, and he catches his eyes for a second. It's just a tiny moment, but that _look_ in Rush's eyes... he recognizes it as lust. Rush dives underwater and resurfaces twenty feet away, and completely ignores him as he slowly starts making a wide arc in the water. 

After a long while, Young swims his way over to the stone ledge on the other side of the pond, and climbs onto it. He marvels at the beauty of the trees and their lights, and the stars high above them. At the way they're all reflected in the water. In the middle of the pond, Rush spends as much time underwater as he does above it, and Young can't help but marvel at him as well. 

Eventually, Rush swims over and climbs onto the ledge next to him. 

“Hey,” Young says quietly, as they sit almost shoulder to shoulder. Rush looks at him with eyes that seem black in the dim light, and Young gives him an uncertain little smile. 

Rush's gaze flicks to his mouth and back up, and Young sees him subconsciously leaning in closer, as if his whole body is reaching out to him. This is what the whole week has been leading up to, he thinks. This moment where they might finally figure this out, might finally find a way to make this thing between them work. If only he can find the right words, Young knows he can fix this. 

“Rush,” he says, and he intones the word with all the warmth and care he feels for him; all the affection, and the longing, and even the trust, reserved just for him. 

Rush visibly shivers. “Colonel, I don't want...” But he looks like he _does_ want, like it's all he can think about, and Young can relate. God, he wants Rush more than anything in the world, and that should mean something, right? That should mean that he has to take this chance, now that it's finally here. 

He leans forward and presses his lips against Rush's mouth, and it's as if something breaks inside the man. He tangles his fingers in Young's damp hair and pulls him closer, deeper into the kiss. Young moans at the feel of Rush's tongue against his own – he's missed this so fucking much – and wraps his arms around Rush's waist to pull him in tighter. 

They're chest to chest, skin on skin, and Rush is kissing him like they're dying, and maybe they are, because this feels too good, too perfect, to be real. Rush makes a desperate noise when Young lets his hands roam over his shoulders, his neck, and he bites softly in Young's bottom lip before sucking Young's tongue back into his mouth. Young groans deeply and lets his eyes drift closed. 

Suddenly Rush shoves him hard in the chest, and he is thrust backwards. “I don't want this!” His voice comes out shakily, and Young sees a tremor wrack through his body. 

He sits up from where Rush pushed him down, and moves backwards to create some space between them. He's breathing hard, and he forces himself to take the time to calm down before he reacts to this. After about a minute, when his breathing has evened out, he speaks. 

“If that's true, you're sending some pretty mixed signals, Rush.” He casts a pointed glance at Rush's groin. His erection is hard against his belly, easy to distinguish in the warm light from the willow trees. Rush pulls his legs up to hide it from Young's sight, and he feels a small stab of guilt at the helplessness of the gesture. 

“Look,” he says, more patiently. “I'm not going to pretend I don't feel attracted to you. At this point that seems kind of ridiculous anyway. So please, at least just return that courtesy.” 

“The problem here is not physical attraction, Colonel.” Rush glares at him angrily. Like this is all somehow his fault. 

“No. Obviously,” Young agrees. “So then, what, you don't like me as a person?” 

“Not particularly, no,” Rush mutters derisively. Young barely bites back an unsteady laugh. 

“Yeah, that would've been more convincing if you'd actually kept eye contact.”

Rush looks him in the face, and his voice sounds almost pleading. “I don't know how I can say this in a way you will understand, Colonel. I can't give you what you want. I can't _care_ for you in that way.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don't.”

“You do realize that is clearly bullshit, right? I may have believed that before you lost it and risked your ass to save me from that Nakai ship, but you kinda tipped your hand there.” 

Rush bites his lip and cants his head to the side, and his entire body language makes Young's heart clench with sympathy. 

Rush's knees are drawn up, and he uses his hair to hide his face. He rubs his hand over his eyes, and now the whole picture just reminds Young of that time on that abandoned ship. He hates how vulnerable Rush had looked in that moment, and here he is again, making him... But the intent is different, this time. So very different. 

“Rush,” he says quietly. Not daring to touch, not daring to do anything. 

“I can't,” Rush whispers, and Young is pretty sure he's on the verge of tears. “I just can't.” 

“You can't what?” 

“I can't _care_ about you...” he mumbles something so heavily accented Young doesn't catch it. 

Carefully, he reaches over to grab Rush's hand. Rush doesn't react, but he doesn't move away either. 

“Rush,” he says quietly, gently. He takes another chance. “Don't you think that ship has sailed? Aren't those nightmares proof you're already there?” 

Rush squeezes his hand painfully hard, and inhales shakily. “Fuck,” Young hears him mutter, and he wonders if Rush had simply not realized yet how far gone he truly is. It fills his chest with a warm and joyous fondness for the man in front of him. This beautiful, brilliant, breakable man who can do the most complex calculations but who can't read his own heart until someone points it out to him. He moves closer and leans his chest against Rush's back. His wet skin has cooled in the evening breeze, and Young feels a small shudder go through him. 

“I'm there, too, Rush,” he says softly before he presses his lips into his shoulder.

Suddenly and without warning, Rush turns around and pulls him in for a hard kiss. His hands are tight in Young's hair, and his tongue pushes insistently inside. Rush's attack overwhelms his defenses, and he has no choice but to surrender to it. When Rush finally lets him up for air, Young's lips tingle and his cock is hard against his belly. 

“Seriously? Right now?” Young asks breathlessly. 

Rush pushes him down flat on the ledge and climbs on top of him. “Yeah, right now,” he husks into his neck. “I've been wanting to do this for ages.” Then he leans down and sucks a dark bruise into the skin on his collarbone. Young screws his eyes shut, and Rush moves down to his nipple and tugs at it harshly with his teeth. 

“Rush,” Young groans, and desperately threads his fingers through Rush's hair. 

He feels Rush steadily making his way lower, licking at his stomach, biting just above his bellybutton. The ends of his hair graze against the tip of his erection and it's too soft, and too ticklish, and he loves it but he wants more. He wants... 

“Rush, Rush, wait,” he babbles, as he pulls Rush's head up slightly so he can't move any further. “I want, too—at the same time... turn around.” 

Miraculously, Rush understands, and moves over him until his knees are next to Young's head and his cock hangs tantalizingly low in front of his face. His dickhead peeks shiny and red from his foreskin, and Young doesn't waste any time in wrapping his lips around it. Above him, he hears Rush moan quietly, and god, he wishes he could see what they look like right now. 

Young reaches his arms upwards, taking hold of Rush's ass with both hands, and uses it as leverage to pull Rush in tighter, deeper inside his mouth. He had never expected to love sucking cock this much, he thinks as he feels Rush flick hot little licks up his dick, but it makes him twitch with desire whenever his tongue or his lips draw a sound out of Rush. He can taste and feel Rush's precome in his mouth, mingling with his spit, and he slips his index finger into his already full mouth to wet it. When it's nice and slick he works it gently into Rush's hole, pushing in and out slowly, shallowly, as Rush hums happily around his cock. 

Once he's slipped his finger all the way inside, he crooks it lightly, searching for Rush's prostate. He plays his tongue over the silky hard flesh in his mouth, and groans when he feels Rush sucking so hard on his dickhead that it almost hurts. Christ, he's going to come way too soon if this keeps up, but it's so good he can't break away. 

Rush is starting to build a faster rhythm with his mouth now, moaning almost continuously as Young sucks and licks at his cock and massages that spongy cluster of nerves inside him. Young's mouth feels like it's overflowing, and he swallows hard, and with an abrupt cry Rush is coming, thrusting his hips into his mouth, clenching wild and erratic around his finger. Young sputters slightly as his mouth fills with come, and while he tries to take it all in, he feels some of it dribbling out of the side of his lips. God, but he has missed seeing Rush like this, feeling him climax, _tasting_ him. 

Young pulls his face back slightly and laps at Rush's sensitive head until Rush makes a soft keening noise and jerks away from him. Rush climbs to straddle Young's hips again, and immediately bends forward to lick the spilled come off Young's cheek. 

“Jesus, yes,” Young groans, and then Rush takes his face in his hands and kisses him deeply, slowly, until their tastes are so mingled he doesn't know where he ends and Rush begins anymore. He feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin with all this built up arousal inside of him, and when Rush pulls away all he can think to say is, “Please, Rush. _Please_.” 

“Alright,” Rush murmurs softly against his lips. “I'll take care of you, Colonel.” 

He moves down and places a soft kiss on the tip of his cock. And it's somehow sweet, so close to loving, even worshiping... Young nearly loses it at just that. 

“Wait,” he says, panting harshly. “Say my name, Rush.” 

“What?” 

“Everett. I wanna hear you say it.”

Rush chuckles lightly, and fuck if that sound doesn't resonate all the way to his balls, and then he places another kiss on Young's cock, wetter and with tongue, this time. A hot slick brand on the underside of his sensitive head, Rush's tongue teasing smoothly at the ridge there. 

Young moans a high and thready note, and oh fuck he has to come so fucking bad. 

“Alright then,” Rush says with a slight rumble in his voice, keeping eye contact the whole time. “Come for me, _Everett_ ,” and then he closes his lips over Young's cock again, and _fuck_ that's it—his orgasm rips through him like a tornado, leaving devastation and deep, aching emotion in every corner of his being, and he spasms up as Rush sucks his release straight out of him. He thinks he actually loses a few seconds there, because the next thing he knows Rush is saying something against his mouth and kissing him again. 

When he finally pulls away, Young lets out a deep groan. “Jesus, I think you broke me.” 

Rush lets out a small huff and fingers a spot on Young's collarbone. Then he lays his head down on his shoulder and cuddles up against him. 

“We can't fall asleep here,” Young says tiredly. 

“Hmm,” Rush agrees. 

The warm water laps up against them gently, and the orange lights twinkle softly in the slight breeze. Young smiles and presses a kiss into Rush's damp hair. 

He can't remember the last time he's ever felt this content.


	21. Chapter 21

It isn't until he wakes up with a scream curled under his tongue that he realizes how fucking bad he truly screwed up. They're in the tent, and Young is awake, carefully petting him as if he's a skittish colt, and his first instinct is to lean into the touch, to move closer into Young's body heat. 

Fuck, he'd been doing so well. They were friendly, and things were good, and he should've said no when Young asked him to come to the pond tonight, because he knew this was going to happen. He knew he'd be tempted to act on the high-current tension that had been growing stronger between them since the first day on the planet. 

When he'd seen Young, naked in the water, a thousand pinpricks of light casting him in a glow that made his face look both softer and more unbreakable than ever, all he'd wanted to do was touch the man. Get closer. He'd tried to stop himself, he really had. But when Young confronted him with what he'd been trying to deny to himself for weeks now, his resolve had crumbled. 

He'd lost himself in touch and taste, the pleasure too easy to drown in. Even now Rush's heartbeat quickens at the sight of the dark bite mark on Young's collarbone, the mark he'd left there as if Young is _his_. His to bite and mark and suck and kiss. His to keep. 

And the thing is, he believes Young. He believes Young wants him, not just physically, but every single part of him, broken edges and all. It's amazing and terrifying and flattering and horrible, because Rush feels the same, and he doesn't want to _hurt_ Young like this. 

Because nothing has changed. He can't see Young be torn from his grip like Mandy... Like Gloria. He can't. He won't come back from that again. 

He _can't_. 

Fuck, he shouldn't have gone to the pond. 

“Nightmare?” Young asks quietly, and it occurs to Rush that he's still leaning into his touch, Young's hands rubbing soothing strokes up and down his arms. He wishes it didn't feel so fucking right to let Young touch him like this; wishes it wasn't so easy to accept the offered comfort.

He nods tightly, not trusting his voice at the moment, and Young gives him a sympathetic look. 

“It'll get better,” Young says, as he draws Rush to his chest and wraps his arms around him. “The nightmares will stop.” 

Rush doesn't see how that's possible. He's not dreaming about a bad memory, something that no matter how painful, inexorably fades with time. He's dreaming about the future, about what he _knows_ will inevitably happen. All time will do is bring that fear closer to reality. Every time he wakes up he knows he has just moved nearer to seeing his nightmares come true.

But this is not the moment for that conversation. He's emotionally drained and physically exhausted. 

For tonight, their last night on the planet, he lets Young pull him back down into sleep. 

-

They've been aboard Destiny for three hours, and already Young longs back to the peaceful swims in the warm water and the group meals around the campfire. Rush had mumbled something about shield calculations before heading to the control interface room, and Young's had his hands full with all the intel from the first and third planet. 

Apparently a scouting party on the third planet has brought in a large amount of bromine, so that means Brody and Rush can rig the emergency knockout gas in the gateroom this week. And TJ has found a ton of interesting medicinals on the first planet; including something that resembles stevia. Young has no idea what stevia is, but her report states it's basically a very sweet plant. He can't imagine how good it will be for morale to have sweet tea aboard the ship. 

He also needs to clear out a second refrigeration unit for all the meat the group on the third planet are bringing in. It seems the large wildlife there is abundant and very edible, and the freezer that is attached to the mess hall is already nearly full. He'll put Greer and Volker on that.

The hours fly by as he directs the crew and helps organize the incoming supplies from the three planets. He doesn't see Rush all day. 

-

Young is in his chambers when Rush finally makes an appearance that night. 

“Hey,” Young says in greeting. “Where have you been?” It's something he's said to the man so often the words sometimes seemed to lose their meaning completely. He knows it sounds different tonight, though. Not suspicious, merely curious. 

“I've been thinking.” 

Young cocks his head. “What about?” 

Rush takes a deep breath and seems to steel himself for something. After a long pause, he says solemnly, “I have feelings for you.” 

Young doesn't say 'I know', even though he does. “I think at this point it should be pretty clear those are mutual,” he says with a slight smile. Rush's deep frown sets alarm bells ringing in his head. “That's not a good thing?” 

Rush looks away. “No, it's not.” 

He knows he should be used to it by now, Rush has been pushing and pulling at him from the moment they started this. But every time it's like the rug is violently yanked out from under him; just when he thinks they've worked something out, that they're moving forward, Rush comes in and tilts everything on its axis again. 

“There's too much at stake here, Colonel, you know there is. And I just can't... It's too much,” Rush says, like that explains anything. Like Young is supposed to make any kind of sense of that. 

“Rush—”

“ _No_ ,” Rush interrupts him. “Everyone I—There's not...” He looks anguished as he struggles with the words. Eventually he grits his teeth, and says, “I can't lose you too.” 

And it's sweet, in a way, that Rush is worried. Scared of losing him. Young can understand where Rush's fears come from; he knows Rush lost his wife to cancer while he was on Icarus, and of course Doctor Perry's death happened less than a year ago. 

Technically, it's closer to four years, but stasis was nothing but an extended blink for Destiny's crew. The three years that passed mean nothing to them other than that everything on Earth had kept moving while they stood still, frozen in their pods. That time did nothing to heal their wounds, physical or emotional. 

He doesn't know many details about Rush's past, but from what he's seen, he can't blame the man for being afraid. And knowing that he has finally penetrated Rush's defenses, that he has somehow become this important to him, is making his heart flutter in his chest. The expression on Rush's face tempers the flutter with a heavy dose of anxiety, however. 

“You won't lose me,” he says quietly, trying to portray calm and certainty when his insides are tying themselves into knots. 

“Don't patronize me,” Rush whirls on him. “I'm not asking for your empty fucking platitudes!” And yes, of course. Any emotional conversation with Rush is like maneuvering through a minefield. One wrong step and everything blows up in his face. 

“Alright, then what? You think you're the only person who's ever been scared of losing someone?” Young can't keep his voice from raising in volume as he speaks. “That's what _happens_ when you care about people! You're worried every goddamn day but it's worth it, because in the end it's still better to have someone than to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone!” 

Rush shakes his head and gives him a pained look. “Not for me. I can't do this anymore.” 

“ _Why the hell not_?! Why, after everything that happened, are you now suddenly afraid to take this risk?” He realizes he is yelling, that his voice is betraying how terrified he is, and he takes a deep breath to try and calm himself. It doesn't work as well as he hoped. He feels his heart thump anxiously in his chest, clenching ever tighter with the fear that if he doesn't figure out what to say he will lose Rush. Forever, this time.

“Fuck Rush, why not? We could be good together, we could make each other happy.” Young knows he's pleading, can't help the desperation in his voice. “You need this just as much as I do.” 

“I can't!”

“ _Why_?!” 

“I've... I don't _deserve_ —” Rush cuts himself off and physically turns away. When he speaks again, his voice is empty, completely void of emotion. “I don't want to. I'm putting a stop to this, Colonel. This is over. We're done.” 

And it's not fair, because Rush keeps doing this to him, and it's killing him. He can't keep doing this. He can't be the steady bedrock that everyone on the ship needs him to be, when Rush keeps chipping away at his foundations like this. As if Rush is the only one who feels he doesn't deserve anything good. Doesn't deserve any kind of happiness in this life. Fuck, as if Rush has any idea what it's really like to look in the mirror and hate the person staring back. 

“Jesus Christ, Rush!” he says, unable to keep the tirade inside. “You think you're the only one who's done bad things? Who has trouble getting up in the morning because it takes forever to stuff back all the guilt and regret?”

Young feels the words well up in his throat and lets them spill over, doesn't give Rush the chance to reply. “I live _every day_ , knowing that I'm not a good person. I have done things I can never take back, because I'm selfish, or too slow or too stupid or too weak, and there is nothing I can do to change that. _Nothing_!” 

Rush looks at him in shocked silence. 

He thinks of how he destroyed everything he had with Emily, broke her ability to trust anyone, just because he'd fallen for TJ's kind eyes and bright smile. How empty those eyes had looked after losing their baby, Carmen, _because of his mistakes_ , and how close she'd come to losing herself. He thinks of Rush lying motionless on that dusty planet, Chloe's terrified eyes, Scott's look of fear and disappointment, Eli's determined face outside his stasis pod. Riley. All the people he's lost under his command before even coming to Icarus... He has betrayed or failed everyone he's ever cared about. And every time he does, all he can do is promise himself he won't ever do it again. A promise that sounds emptier every time he makes it. 

Young sits down hard on the bed and holds his head in his hands. He is quiet for a long time. 

“I think I manipulated Eli into staying behind,” he confesses eventually. He doesn't know why he's telling Rush this. One of his secret betrayals, maybe one that Rush already suspects. “I knew there was a chance he wouldn't make it, but...” he trails off, his throat closing up with tears, or bile, he's not sure. 

It had been unbearable, to think that it would all end there. Just when he'd found something to live for. A mission to accomplish. Hope. And when the opportunity presented itself, he'd been willing to sacrifice a brilliant young man for it. The relief that had flooded his system when Eli's grinning face woke him up from stasis nearly buckled his knees at the time. Even now, knowing everything ended up okay, knowing that Eli made it, he regrets it more than he can put into words. He should never have done that. 

He should never have done a lot of things. 

“You made the right call.” To his bewilderment, Rush brushes his hand against Young's arm, and then sits down next to him. “If you'd stayed out, it would've been common suicide. At least Eli had a chance. What else could you have done?” 

“I could've told him to wake me up if he hadn't found a solution after the two weeks were up.” He can barely get out the words; his throat feels like it's stuffed full of cotton wool. 

Rush huffs out a tired breath. “Yeah, I suppose you could have. He never would've done it, though.” 

“I know,” Young says quietly. He's afraid he's about to cry. Rush's inexplicable kindness only compounds the guilt and the misery he's been carrying around for months, for _years_ , now. He feels stripped bare, raw, like one big open wound, and he's not sure if Rush still being here is a good thing at all. He needs time alone, to put it all back. To press it all down under his skin again, back behind the barriers, so he can keep going. Because it hurts. It really fucking hurts, and he doesn't know how he fooled himself into believing he had put all this behind him. 

“Why didn't you let me stay out?” Rush asks curiously, breaking the heavy silence between them. 

Young can't look at him; the shame, and the weakness, and the pain flaying him to the bone. “I knew I needed you more.” It might not be the whole truth, but it's the more damning one. 

A tear does roll down his cheek at that moment. 

He doesn't expect it when Rush takes his face in his hands and brushes his thumb over his cheek to wipe away the wetness there. His ears fill with a soundless roaring, a white noise as overwhelming as the unexpected softness of Rush's touch. He feels scared and vulnerable as he searches his face for meaning, but before he finds it Rush leans in to brush a kiss against his lips. There is gentleness and comfort in it, and Young takes what is offered blindly. He doesn't understand it, Rush's behavior is making no sense, but he needs this. He needs this more than he's ever allowed himself to realize. He hasn't had anyone console him in so long. An overwhelming sense of gratitude makes his eyes well up, and he can't push it down, he can't stop crying. And Rush is still here.

He wants to ask why, how did _this_ change his mind? But instead he lets Rush kiss him, cup his face, hold him quietly. Allows it to drown out his confusion and his questions until exhaustion catches up with him and he stops thinking entirely. 

-

Rush doesn't know how he feels exactly, but something in his chest has finally settled. 

He'd never realized how broken Young was. Even when it was clear the Colonel was falling apart, he'd never really understood how much of that damage was internal. How much deeper it all went. It's as if a whole new layer of Young has suddenly come to light, and now that he knows it exists he doesn't understand how he could have ever believed it wasn't there at all. 

It should make him more scared, more hopeless, to know how much of a wreck Young is beneath that veneer of stoic leadership, but it doesn't. For some reason, the moment Young told him how flawed he perceives himself to be, how he knows he isn't a good person, Rush had felt like he could finally breathe again. The pressure in his chest eased, and he hadn't even realized how bad it was, how paralyzed he's been all this time. Now that it's gone he feels like a new man. He can do anything. Face any challenge. Conquer any problem. 

He'd been curious, of course, why Young had allowed Eli to stay out to fix the pod. But he'd never suspected Young of anything quite so selfish. For some reason it weaves inappropriate tendrils of warm affection through his chest. 

This Young is nothing like the one from his dreams. Nothing like the glowing, angelic apparition; flawless and unstained until its own blood inevitably soaks through pristine fabric and skin. That Young is a figment, and he doesn't know why it took him this long to understand that. That Young is a subconscious conjuration, one that never felt quite right, even in the nightmares. No, this is _his_ Young. And his Young is dark and brittle. Damaged, and a little dirty. Rush has never seen it more clearly, and he's never loved Young more. 

Perhaps it was too hard to admit this even to himself, but Gloria and Mandy, they had been too good for him. Deep down, he'd always known that. They had been beautiful, and brilliant, and gentle, each in their own way. They loved him, and they had altogether just been too perfect for him to get to keep. 

He was devastated when Gloria had fallen ill the first time, and perhaps the most painful thing was to discover that somehow he'd fooled himself into believing that he hadn't seen this coming. That he had honestly believed he could ever get to keep the happiness she brought him, the brilliant light she cast over his life. 

When she got sick the second time, he wasn't even surprised. It still hurt, maybe even more than the first time, but deep down he'd known to expect it. He'd disconnected, disengaged. Unable to deal with the knowledge that he was going to lose her, he'd pinpointed his focus on something new, something bigger than himself, and she'd died alone for it. He blinks against the wetness in his eyes, and absentmindedly rakes his hand through Young's thick, dark curls. 

Mandy was sweet, and beautiful, and truly brilliant, and he _had_ loved her, no matter what she thought in the end. She too, died alone, waiting for him to come back. When he'd found her—underneath the shock, the horror, the grief, there had been a voice that said ' _You knew it was only a matter of time_ '. 

And in the end, maybe that's why he finds himself sitting here with Young now. 

Young is the complete opposite of Gloria and Mandy. Where they epitomized fragile beauty and perfection, Young is like a damaged and gnarled old tree. As imperfect as he is resilient. Maybe he doesn't have to worry about breaking him. He's seen life hurl its worst at Young, and still the man got back up. As a matter of fact, Rush himself has done as much damage as he could; he'd really given it his best shot, and even that wasn't enough to get rid of Young. After everything he did to undermine Young, to get him kicked off the command chair, Young only came back more steady, more securely settled in his role as leader. 

Young is strong, and sturdy, but most of all, Young is so bloody imperfect Rush aches with it. He isn't the kind of exquisite porcelain teacup Rush's gritty Glaswegian fingers are doomed to drop and shatter. He's the downtrodden old tire hanging from the garage door in Uncle Johnny's backyard. The one that had been there when he was a toddler, and had still been there when he'd left for Oxford. Maybe not the fastest or the most beautiful, but dependable and durable. A constant. 

And yes, the cracks in the rubber sometimes caught at his skin, and at times he'd worried the decrepit looking thing wouldn't hold his weight at all. But in the end it had been there for him for as long as he needed or wanted it. Longer, even.

He looks down at where Young is sleeping with his head in Rush's lap, eyes still red-rimmed and fingers clutched in Rush's shirt. He strokes his hand through Young's hair again, and smiles faintly. He's quite certain Young wouldn't appreciate his analogy. A strong wave of fondness washes through him at the thought, and he finally accepts that he doesn't even have a choice in the matter anymore. He's already in too deep. 

The only thing left for him now is to believe the Colonel is different enough, resilient enough, to stay standing. 

He falls asleep curled protectively around Young. And for the first time in weeks, he doesn't have any nightmares.


	22. Epilogue

Late that night, when Rush steps inside the Colonel's quarters, Young is working at his desk. 

“Hey,” he greets him quietly, with that little smile that still makes Rush's heart thump faster in his chest. 

He hasn't spoken to Young all day; hasn't seen him since this morning, when he woke up curled around Young on his bed. He's kept busy and out of the way, perhaps in a halfhearted attempt to avoid this inevitable awkwardness, at least temporarily. 

Yesterday's conversation hangs heavy in the air between them. 

“So, you're here to tell me you've made up your mind, then?” Young asks, his voice light, but the expression on his face dimming into blankness. 

Oh.

_Oh_. Apparently his actions yesterday were not sufficient to get his message across. Perhaps leaving early in the morning, before Young had woken up, wasn't the most sensible decision, in hindsight. 

He can't deny there is something precious about an insecure Young, however. 

Rush wants to smile as he steps behind the desk. As he extends his hand for Young to get out of his chair. As he slowly traces his fingertips over Young's face before taking off his glasses and moving in for a kiss. And it's quite possible he does. 

Young lets Rush slide their lips together, allows him to tangle his fingers into his unruly, dark hair, and places his own hands carefully on Rush's hips. It's all uncharacteristically passive, compared to their past encounters.

“Rush,” Young says when he pulls back, his voice a little unsteady. “You can't... You have to let me know. I can't keep doing this.” 

He curls his fingers deeper into Young's hair, cradling the back of his head with both hands. It's oddly intimate, standing like this, standing still in this embrace. He feels Young's breath on his lips and it's slightly dizzying. 

“I want you, Colonel.” 

Young's brow furrows slightly, but he doesn't speak or move. 

“What?” 

“I don't want us to just have sex anymore,” Young says, quiet but resolute. 

Rush almost rolls his eyes. He tugs gently at the thick curls in his fingers. “Does this feel like just sex to you?” 

Young breaks eye contact and looks to the side. “I've been wrong about that before.” 

Rush huffs out a small breath. “No, you really weren't.” 

Young looks at him again, a painfully open expression of doubt and hope on his face. 

“Yes, alright? I made up my mind yesterday,” he says finally, and leans forward to press their lips together again. “I want this,” he breathes against Young's mouth. “You. All of it. That enough for you?” 

The tension in Young's face eases and a slow smile takes its place, before Young's hands slide to Rush's lower back to pull him in closer. “Half the time, I don't understand you at all.” 

Privately, Rush thinks that statistic is incredibly inaccurate. 

“But yeah, okay. That's enough.” Young leans forward, gently bumping their foreheads together, and closes his eyes. 

“Good,” Rush murmurs, enjoying the quiet comfort of just this, just them sharing warmth and breath and peacefulness, for a few moments. Then he uses his grip on Young's hair to angle his head up slightly, so he can suck a kiss into the skin of his neck. “Then can we finally fuck now?” 

He feels the vibrations against his lips as much as he hears Young's words. 

“You're such a romantic, Rush.” 

He bites lightly into the vulnerable flesh of Young's throat. “Call me by my first name. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right.” 

He feels Young's fingers scratch into his shoulders and tilts Young's face down to swallow a hitched breath. Young's tongue is slick and warm against his own, and Rush feels himself smile into the kiss. Yeah. He's missed this. 

He allows himself to sink into it, to melt against Young's chest as he pulls their hips flush together. He's done denying himself this. 

“ _Everett_.” He lets his hands drift over to Young's ass, and squeezes. “Let's go to bed.” 

“Yeah,” Young sighs against him, and then they're stumbling over to the bed, stripping the clothes off each other, stopping only for quick and messy kisses until they're both naked on the bed, panting and hard. 

Young is running his hands over Rush's chest, his abdomen, in wonder, seemingly just wanting to touch as much skin as possible. The little smile on his face is driving Rush insane; he wants to keep it, all to himself, forever. 

He wants...he wants _everything_ , and he revels in the knowledge that Young will give it to him. 

“Open me up,” he says directly into Young's ear, and pushes a packet of lube into his palm. 

Young exhales sharply and gives him a look so full of desire Rush feels the air catch in his throat. He licks his lips and Young's eyes flick down to his mouth, and it sends an acute thrill of need through his entire body. God. He already feels like he's about to come, and Young hasn't even _touched_ him yet. 

Young pushes him flat onto his back and climbs on top of him, before sucking a trail of kisses down his neck to his chest. It's slow, and romantic, and something Rush is sure Young has done to—he stops his train of thought right there - he's too old to be jealous of past lovers - and then Young skims his fingers over his erection, and he's quite certain _his_ is the only cock Young has ever sucked, and with a perverted sense of satisfaction he lets his head fall back against the mattress. 

By the time Young reaches his prick, Rush is already half mad with arousal. Young takes his time, worshiping every bit of skin on Rush's chest with teeth, and lips, and fingers. Rush curses when Young slides his tongue inside his bellybutton, and there is something so fucking hot about the way Young chuckles against his skin that he has to bite his hand to keep from moaning out loud.

When Young finally angles his cock down to his mouth, Rush is aching for it. He braces himself on his elbows to watch the way Young licks slowly over the head. Young pulls his foreskin up and dips his tongue underneath it in a swirl of slick fucking obscenity, and Rush can't hold back an unsteady groan at the sight in front of him. Young's eyes flick up to him, and his lips quirk up before he plants them onto his glans in a wet, sloppy kiss that looks downright pornographic. His tongue rubs up and down against the slit in his tip, and the _suction_ , fuck. 

It's over too soon, and he thinks perhaps he makes an embarrassing whiny noise when Young pulls away, but it doesn't matter enough to stop anymore. Young is pouring lube onto his fingers, and he trails them slickly over his balls, and further down, until they're right up against his hole. 

The first one slides in easily, effortlessly, and it's already so good, and already not enough. “More,” he demands breathlessly, and with a brilliant little smile Young pushes another finger inside him. 

Yes, fuck. This is what he wants. Young filling him up until every thought in his mind is about this, about them, coming together undeniably. 

He shudders as Young stretches him open, as he adds a third digit just a hint too soon. The burn is exquisite, it's intoxicating, and he can't help the low moan that rises from his throat as Young continues to work him open with his dexterous fingers until it's enough, he wants it– _now_. 

“Yes, _fuck_ , Everett, c'mere,” he groans, and urges Young to climb on top of him again by threading his fingers through his hair. Young obliges him, kisses him, and Rush gives himself over to it for a moment. The scent of Young's skin, his body's weight warm and strong on top of him, the soft but insistent way Young conquers his mouth until Rush doesn't want to do anything but surrender. 

Then their cocks brush against each other, wet and hot and incessant, and it's enough to shock him out of that state of languid pleasure. 

Without warning he angles his leg over Young and rolls them over, so he's on top. Young makes a surprised little sound into his mouth, but doesn't protest otherwise. His hands glide up Rush's back, chasing a trail of goosebumps up his shoulders. 

Young moans when Rush breaks the kiss and sits up. He grabs for the half empty packet of lube and squeezes the rest of its contents into his hand, and then he leans closer to watch the way Young's eyes widen as he spreads it over Young's cock. 

“I don't have a—” Young starts to say, but Rush cuts him off with a quick nip at his earlobe. 

“It's okay. You can, inside me,” he says against the skin of Young's neck, and he basks in the way Young's hands tighten minutely on him. 

“Nicholas,” Young whispers, and it's the first time he's ever called him that, and it's different, it's profound, and it's special, and Rush can't help the raw shiver that runs down the length of his spine. He's pretty sure Young feels it under his hands.

“Shit,” Young chuckles breathlessly. “I wanted to save that.” 

“Save it?” Rush asks, not sure what that is supposed to mean. 

“Your name. For when you were really close.” 

This time it's Rush's turn to chuckle, hand curled slippery and still against Young's cock. “Made an impression, did it?” 

Young runs his fingers through Rush's hair and pulls their faces close together. “God, yeah,” he rumbles against Rush's mouth. “Hardest I ever came.” 

He smiles and flicks his tongue out for a quick lick at Young's lips. “Well, that gives us something to aim for, then.” 

Young hums agreeably and draws their mouths together. Rush allows the kiss for a few seconds, but then squeezes the hand he still has on Young's length lightly, making Young groan and drop his head back against the bed. With a satisfied smile, Rush sits up on his knees and angles Young's erection against himself. Young looks at him with eyes full of wonder, like Rush is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and Rush can't break eye contact as he slowly lowers himself down on top of him. His skin feels hot, feverish, and sweat breaks out on his back as Young breaches him, fills him up in a way that quiets every other thought in his head.

It's intense, and intimate, and _tight_ , and he loves it; loves that in this moment it's just him and Everett and this all-consuming heat in and around him. When he's finally seated, when Young's cock is buried all the way inside him, he can't stop the guttural sound that claws its way out of his throat. 

“Nick,” Young breathes, almost reverently. “God, I l—”

“Yeah,” Rush says quickly, not ready for what Young is about to say, not ready for how he might react. He rolls his hips just a little too fast, the burn inside him flaring into pain for a delicious moment, and he doesn't even try to hold back the ragged curse that falls from his lips. 

With a sudden surge of movement, Young sits up, and it's the easiest thing in the world to wrap his arms around Young's neck, to hold on, as he starts rocking on top of him in a sinuous rhythm. Angling his hips so Young brushes against his prostate with every downstroke, getting lost in that near overwhelming sense of fullness, of having Young inside of him. 

Young's hands steady him, ground him; one on the small of his back, the other resting lightly on the back of his neck, fingertips teasing into his hair. It makes him feel protected. It makes him feel cherished. It makes him feel _safe_ , and he squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden flood of emotion that nearly overcomes him. The side of Young's face is warm against his own, and he bites back something that feels dangerously close to tears. 

Young's hand inches higher into his hair, and then Rush moves back to kiss him again, allows his body to say what he can't put into words. Young accepts it all, gratefully, like he's been doing all this time, and maybe _this is it_ , this is the missing piece they needed to work. And part of him is so glad he found it, and part of him is so frustrated he didn't know sooner. And then Young thrusts upwards, drives into him deeper than before, and all he can think about is _this_ , right here, right now. 

“Yes,” is all he can utter, as the rhythm between them intensifies until it falls apart completely. They're moving together, frantically; the pressure in his lower belly compounding to the point of near bursting. Suddenly, Young's face distorts into something resembling pain, and then he's stuttering his hips up, emptying himself inside Rush, and moaning his name, saying it over and over again until he slowly comes back down from his orgasm. 

Rush leans his forehead against Young's and lets their breaths mingle as he allows him to recover. His own arousal is still hot and insistent, pressing into his mind, pushing slickly against Young's abdomen, but somehow this moment takes precedence over that. This is more important, maybe _Young_ is more important, and it still sends a little flare of fear through him, but then Young presses a kiss into his lips and curls his fingers around his cock, and all rational thought takes a backseat to the overflow of physical sensation. 

Young is still inside of him, his mouth hungry and unwavering against his, and his hand slides over him in quick, long strokes that make the tension and the desire coil tightly until Rush is right up against the edge, writhing and shaking in Young's lap. 

“Nick,” Young breathes when he breaks away from their kiss, and Rush lets go, striping come all over Young's abdomen as his orgasm crashes through him with the force of a lightning bolt. _God_ it's amazing, every single cell in his body sings out with release and relief, and he knows Young is watching him, letting himself be covered in the proof of what they're doing, and _fuck_. He clutches his arms tighter around Young's neck as he rides out the pleasure and the trembling aftershocks that accompany every little caress from Young's fingers against his sensitive flesh. He holds on until his breathing evens out again. Until his limbs don't feel like they might shake themselves apart the second he lets go of Young. 

“Mm,” Rush says eventually, voice not entirely steady. “I see the appeal now, yes.” 

Young laughs and presses his face into Rush's shoulder. 

The aftermath and the clean up don't really register; he's vaguely aware of Young lowering him down onto the bed, of him performing a rudimentary but thorough wipe down on them both with a wet cloth, and then drawing the blankets on top of them. Rush doesn't pay it much mind, instead opting to float in a hazy cloud of post-orgasmic bliss until Young puts his hand on top of Rush's heart and looks at him with a serious expression. 

“Rush,” he says, his eyes dark and intense. It focuses Rush's attention with pinpoint sharpness. Young's face is inches away from his own, and while Rush may not be able to physically feel his emotions anymore, he can read them almost as easily as they play across his features. “I meant it. You're... I think I—” 

“Yeah,” Rush interrupts, clamping his hand down on top of Young's and holding on tightly. “Yes, I know.” He swallows thickly, terrified and uncertain and never more sure. He feels his heartbeat spike in his chest. “Me too.” 

He can't name the exact emotion flitting over Young's face right then, but it makes his heart clench and his stomach flip.

“Please wake me up before you go,” Young says softly, and it sounds vulnerable, unprotected. It's heady, and it's scary, and it awakens a flare of protectiveness in Rush. 

This whole thing will take some getting used to, it appears.

He feels his lips draw into a shaky smile. “Yeah, alright.” 

Young smiles back, and in that very moment Rush can't remember what it was like not to love him, and frightening as the thought still is, the look on Young's face tells him he's not the only one. At least he's not alone. He presses a slow kiss onto Young's lips before curling up against his shoulder. 

Young pulls the covers up higher around them, and when he wraps his arm around Rush, it only takes seconds to fall asleep. 

-

It's funny how quickly people get used to things. Honestly, the human mind's ability to adapt to whatever random and seemingly insane developments it is presented with is really quite impressive. Eli glances back down to his food, an honest-to-God hamburger, even though maybe the bun isn't as fluffy as it's supposed to be, and takes a bite. Holy cow, that is good. Next to him, Chloe moans something that is unintelligible but sounds completely indecent, and he grins with his mouth full. 

A few tables over, Rush says something that causes Young to laugh heartily, and Eli finds himself looking over at them, a tiny smile still on his face. The atmosphere around them is easy, calm, and Eli doesn't think he'd have believed it if he hadn't seen it for himself. The crew, well, most of the crew, have accepted the budding camaraderie between Rush and Young as something positive. Eli suspects Camile had something to do with the high approval rate across the board, and he knows for a fact that Greer's vocal support of Rush has brought around a few of the military men that were not too fond of the scientist. 

Of course, there's no telling what will happen if (when) people find out Rush and Young are more than just friendly. But so far it seems the only ones to cotton on are the people close enough to recognize this as something that is good for both of them. Young smiles more and frowns less, and Rush actually looks rested about half the time, which is a considerable improvement from before. 

“What?” Chloe asks, pulling him out of his reverie. She follows his line of sight and her lips quirk into an amused smile. “Oh, right.” She bumps her shoulder into his and takes another huge bite. “I think it's kinda cute,” she says around her food, and it's awesome and unladylike and he really hasn't ever had anyone like her in his life. He's found his best friend on a ship a thousand galaxies away from home, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Eli looks back down at his plate, and finds himself grinning at his food. “They would so kill us if they heard that.” He picks up his own burger and gives her a bright smile. “But yeah, it kinda is.” 

-

Rush says things now, sometimes, when they have sex. When he's about to come. Hard jumbles of filthy desperation and unexpected sweetness that push Young over the edge quicker than anything he's ever heard. Young is not entirely sure what changed, exactly, but Rush seems...easier, somehow.

He's still _Rush_ , of course. He still doesn't see the need to curve his words so his message will be better received (or even understood) by his audience. He still has no patience for anything less than brilliance. They still disagree several times a week. 

But there are also the moments when he allows for quiet. For just being together, without any immediate objective. He lets Young fuss over him, sometimes, when he doesn't feel well. And for some reason he always seems to know when Young's had a hard day, because he will rest his hand on his arm, or he will kiss him just a little bit more gently than usual. Young feels easier, too. Slowly but surely, the hard days become less frequent. Less hard. 

On the rare occasion, Rush talks to him about math. About algorithms and formulae that mean little to Young. Like a cat worrying at a knot, he'll talk at Young; the words not nearly as engrossing as the look of focused passion on Rush's face, and Young loves it. Rush will use him as a human blackboard, chalking scratchy illustrations on the wall as he goes, until the knot untangles. When it works, when he solves the problem, the look he gives him never ceases to take Young's breath away. There's always wonderment there, laid open and bare behind the obvious satisfaction. And it's those moments, right before Rush kisses him, that he knows beyond any doubt that Rush loves him. 

It's good, Young thinks. It's them, and it's _good_ , and it's more than he'd ever dared to hope for. 

-

TJ sighs and washes the blood off her latex gloves. She's running out, and they're going to have to think of an alternative soon, because these things are not meant to be washed and sterilized and re-used over and over again. 

She glances over at the bed, at Rush urgently whispering something at Young. At the way his fingers curl protectively over Young's hand. She's known for a while, had suspected it for longer, and all she feels as she goes back to cleaning the gloves is the warm glow of relief. No one died today, Young's injury is just a flesh wound, and everything will be okay. 

She doesn't begrudge them this, just as Everett doesn't begrudge her Varro. 

From the corner of her eye she sees the Colonel's hand come up to brush through Rush's hair, and she smiles to herself. 

Yes. Everything will be okay.

-

Some days are good. Some days are not. 

The day he hears Emily is getting remarried is bad. He wants to drink, drown his sorrow and his self-recriminations in alcohol, and ends up snapping at Camile in the mess hall instead. 

Later, in his room, Rush draws the truth out of him, and sometimes Young thinks Rush hoards these snippets, keeps them hidden and guards them jealously, because he never talks about his wife or Doctor Perry either, not even to him. 

“Well, it's not as if you didn't move on, too,” Rush says, eventually. 

And it's not what he wants to hear right now, because that's not the _point_. 

But maybe it's what he needs to hear, all the same. Because Rush doesn't sound flippant or haughty when he says it. He sounds insecure. 

And it's true, Young realizes. He has someone here. Someone who cares about him. Someone who _wants_ him. Possibly even someone who needs him. So it's not difficult to turn to Rush and bury his face in his neck. To wrap his arms around him and take comfort in his presence. 

Rush smells like dust and cotton and a hint of sweat, and for the first time he realizes it smells like _home_. Rush is who he wants to go to after a long day of work, be it mind-numbing drudgery or terrifying crisis. Rush is who he thinks of when he worries about things to come; about Telford aboard the ship, about the Nakai who will probably never stop chasing them, about the constant threat of the Lucian Alliance on Earth and on Destiny, or the alien war that may be awaiting them in the next galaxy. 

Rush is his here and Rush is his now. Of course it hurts to say a final goodbye to his past, severing one of his last ties to Earth. But he wouldn't trade the present for anything. 

He presses his lips against Rush's neck, flicks his tongue out to taste the skin there. 

“...Everett,” Rush breathes out, the way he does now, when they get intimate. It still thrills him to the core. And when he drags Young's face up to kiss him deeply, he knows Rush wasn't wrong. 

He has moved on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> I'm really happy people actually enjoyed this story, and I'm incredibly grateful to everyone who's left kudos or comments along the way :) I've had some amazing back-and-forths about SGU, and the characters, and this fic, over the past few months that I've been here, and it is such a blast. Thank you for making me feel so welcome in the fandom! You are awesome, and I mean that with all my heart.
> 
> As for the story, there are still a lot of things for everyone to deal with, but I think this is a good place to leave it. Not everything is neatly tied up and resolved, but come on, isn't that totally in the spirit of SGU? And who knows, maybe someday I will be tempted to write a bit more in this 'verse, in which case at least there are still questions left to be answered and problems left to be solved...
> 
> P.S.- I've taken out all previous notes for easier reading, but [Potboy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potboy/pseuds/Potboy) and [SeekingIdlewild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingIdleWild) deserve a lot of credit for helping me with the dubious consent stuff and some characterization issues. Thank you both! :)
> 
> [SeekingIdlewild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingIdleWild) is apparently amazing at making playlists, and [she made one for this fic](http://seekingidlewild.tumblr.com/post/111684496296/a-tribute-to-change-of-course-by)! It's absolutely perfect, and if you liked the story, you should really give it a listen. It makes my day every time I play it! :)
> 
> Check out this freaking gorgeous [cover art](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/potboy/16028285/2384/2384_600.jpg) that [Potboy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potboy/pseuds/Potboy) made for Change of Course! It's fantastic, and I love it so much! <3
> 
>   
> 


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